


your haunted social scene

by faerie_ground



Series: a kingsman/bodyguard crossover [2]
Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018), Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: M/M, direct sequel to east end lights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2020-06-25 21:19:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 62,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19754017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerie_ground/pseuds/faerie_ground
Summary: “Welcome to the Kingsman candidate trials for Tristan, Sergeant Budd,” Merlin says into the phone, the smirk evident in his voice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> look at me starting a new eggvid story when i already have two in the works ahdfjnfs anyway this is the direct sequel to east end lights i've been planning for a long time about how david becomes a kingsman agent. features eggsy and david being stupid 
> 
> updates will come once a week for this. if it doesn't you have my permission to yell at me on tumblr
> 
> usual warnings apply: tw for ptsd, graphic v-day related violence. also anne's name is spelt wrong in this entire story and i only realised when i searched for the tags in the posting engine. will change it once i post the second chapter xx

It is on his fifth meeting with the therapist on site that she brings the issue up. The elephant in the room-  _ or the bomb _ , David thinks morbidly. If asked, he can’t remember specifics about that day now. All he remembers is this- the burn of Julia’s picture in his wallet against his thigh, the Botticelli painting on the far wall and Miss Paulson’s face, severe and unsmiling.

“When you couldn’t reach Julia,” she says, after he finishes describing the feeling of running to Julia, the panic searing his chest as he’d prayed for his legs to work faster so he could do something,  _ anything _ to reach her hand. “How did that make you feel?”

It’s a simple question. By all rights, it shouldn’t make David feel like the gum stuck to someone’s shoe but it does. How the fuck did he feel? He’d felt like shit, for starters, like all the light had gone out in the world and the only things he could see and feel was the beating of his own heart and Julia’s bloodied, marred body, mutilated on the debris. He’d felt like screaming, then crying, then killing himself in the most violent way possible, sticking his head in the meat grinder or blowing his brains the fucking fuck out. He’d felt so many emotions in the span of crawling over soot and dust and blood that his chest had hurt with force of it, a knife sliding between his ribs and twisting and twisting and twisting until all that was left was scars, huge and gaping. 

He stares back at Miss Paulson. “I felt bad,” he says hoarsely. 

When the session ends, he walks out and cancels the rest of the appointments with the receptionist. Anne Swanson catches up with him in the corridor a week later, clipped heels sounding her entrance. “Mam,” he says, inclining his head.

“Mind telling me why you cancelled all your appointments with the on-site counsellor?” Swanson asks, eyebrow raised. She’s far more confrontational than Lorraine, and far less courteous about it too. David hasn’t decided yet if it’s a blessing or a curse. Most days, he tries to avoid any reminders of Lorraine. 

“I didn’t realise that my superiors would be keeping tabs on me,” David says sharply, and then belatedly adds, “Mam.”

“None of us are,” Swanson says, after a moment of silence. Her eyes are severe, the expression in them dark. These days, no one has a smile for anyone anymore. The death of Julia Montague hangs over them all like a dark cloud of a reminder about the bloodthirsty, corruptible nature of politics. “You’re perfectly capable of making your own decisions, you’re a grown man.” She peers at him, and then sighs. “Julia was far more adept at this than I am.”

“You’re doing well so far, Mam,” David says. 

“I highly doubt it,” Swanson says dryly. “Its your own life on the chopping block. You can’t bully Paulson into giving you a clean bill of health.”

David wants to retort and say  _ not if I try hard enough, _ but he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps his mouth shut, jaw clenched as he always does, swallows his voice backs down and watches as Swanson spins on her heel and walks away.

Paulson never gives him a clean bill of health anyway, because Paulson dies in a cafeteria from being repeatedly bludgeoned with a luncheon tray in the madness of Richmond Valentine’s SIM card signal.

*

Eggsy is always beautiful, no matter the circumstances- greenish blue eyes gleaming brighter than the sun, flaxen hair arresting David’s gaze- but like this, preparing a meal for Ella and Charlie, he’s in his element and the sight is captivating. David can’t look away, not even for a second, leaning against the doorframe as Eggsy slides the pot onto the stove and slowly turns the heat up.

“Stop staring,” Eggsy says, straightening up as he affixes the lid, grinning over his shoulder. “I can’t think when you look at me like that.”

“Then don’t,” David says, his own voice raspy. Being around Eggsy can make him desert all his inhibitions, all his insecurities and all his reserve, making him act with wild abandon. Something about Eggsy, he thinks, brings out the deeply buried animal in him. Four weeks into their relationship and Eggsy is the oxygen in the air he breathes, the sunlight he didn’t know he was missing. He steps forward until he can slide his hands around Eggsy’s waist, feeling the strong muscle beneath the strings of the apron. 

“You don’t want me to burn our dinner, do you?” Eggsy says practically, although there is a hint of a smile in his voice as he ducks his head, the back of his neck turning pink. “You’re absolutely hopeless-”

“And you love me for it,” David says, scraping his teeth over Eggsy’s ear just to relish in the hitch of his breath. He cranes his neck to inspect the timer- five minutes- and whispers, sliding a hand to fiddle with the drawstring on Eggsy’s joggers, “We have a bit of time, we can-”

“Daddy!”

“Or not,” Eggsy says, snorting, as David removes his hand with an aggrieved sigh. “Go on, then- see what Charlie wants you for.”

“Fine, but before I leave-” he places a hand on Eggsy’s jaw, the skin smooth and just the slightest bit of scratchy, and tilts it so that their mouths meet in harmony, a kiss that’s relaxed and yet firm in its intensity. Eggsy sighs into the kiss, his body melting against his and for a moment David forgets himself, moving his hand down from his jaw to his shoulder, enjoying the feel of smooth skin-

_ “Daddy!” _

“See what he needs,” Eggsy suggests, pulling away and blinking rapidly, the skin of his cheeks flushed. Like this, he’s both beautiful and irresistible, and David has to physically stop himself from pulling Eggsy back into his arms. “Probably help with his homework.”

Charlie’s at the kitchen table, pen clutched in his left hand and glaring furiously down at his homework. “I don’t understand this,” he complains, throwing the pen down. “Can’t I just go and play with Ella?”

“No, you have to hand this in tomorrow and your teacher will be cross,” David explains patiently, drawing the chair out and seating himself in it. Ella, ever bright and studious, had already finished her homework and is now in the drawing room, playing with her dolls and Lego bricks- Charlie, on the other hand, had left everything to the very last minute.

“I don’t understand anything,” Charlie grumbles, jutting his bottom lip out and slouching in his seat. David tries not to laugh, knowing it will make the whole situation worse. “Stupid English homework-”

“Then lets do it together, aye?” David cuts in, drawing the paper towards himself. “Let’s see what about this has got you so stumped-” and then he stops, and stares.

It’s not that bad- just a set of questions about a little news excerpt, fairly easy to understand and answer. It’s the excerpt itself that has David stopping and staring, setting down the passage in shock.  _ “The Assassination of Julia Montague,”  _ David reads out aloud, his own voice sounding distant and far away. The rest of the excerpt is just as clinical and precise- cold, unfeeling, detailing exactly how the Home Secretary died in an explosion. Like a fucking Wikipedia entry, he thinks.

“Look at the first question, Daddy, it’s not even in the- Daddy?” Charlie’s staring at him, he can tell, but there’s a faint buzzing in his ears as he stares down at the excerpt on the paper, printed in a morbid sort of finality. Julia Montague, deceased Home Secretary, reduced to English homework for school kids. 

“Daddy, come on-” Charlie’s shaking his arm, trying to get him to focus; he can do anything but focus, though, the strange buzzing in his ears deafeningly loud and his heart thumping away at a thunderous pace. Set together it’s a cacophony and David’s lost in the noise, trying desperately to keep afloat, trying desperately to cover his ears and protect himself. 

There’s the very distant sound of footsteps and then- Eggsy’s presence behind him, warm and solid. “Hey,” he breathes, quiet and steady. “I sent Charlie up with dinner. Can I-”

“You don’t have to ask,” David says, equally quiet, and Eggsy is immediately sliding into his lap, one arm around his neck and the other around his back. He entwines both of his own around Eggsy’s waist and instantly feels calmer, less at sea and more at home. Eggsy’s warm, soft weight is often more than enough to anchor David whenever he’s started his descent into one of his episodes, pulling him back before he has the chance to lose himself haplessly. 

Eggsy twists around, releasing David’s back to take the paper in his hand. “Oh, David,” he says, sorrow in his voice- no pity. If there had been, David would probably have been set off again. 

“Charlie’s English homework,” David says hoarsely. “She used to be- she was the fucking Home Secretary. And now she’s just- they’re answering questions about her, and she’s dead.” He doesn’t know if he’s making sense. He doesn’t even know what’s the point he’s trying to make but it seems like Eggsy understands anyway, his eyes wide with sorrow as he sets the paper down, reaching up with his hand to cup David’s face, wiping away the tears he had been unaware of, rolling down his face in an incessant stream. 

“She died,” David continues, his own throat tight with the tears that just keep coming, “because someone got too greedy. And now all that’s left of her are these- these fucking useless words, and all my kids know of her is just this- just this.” He swallows, trying not to let even more tears fall. He’d killed Julia, he thinks, just for her to be a footnote in his kids’ fucking English homework-

Eggsy takes a hold of his head and tucks it into the space between his own shoulder and neck, his nails scratching at the fine hairs at the back of his neck. “None of that, love,” he whispers into the silence as David does his level best not to sob. “You didn’t kill her. That bomb did.”

“If I’d spotted it sooner-”

“Then the bomb maker would have found some other way to get to her and you know it,” Eggsy says firmly. “You can’t deal in what ifs, darling, it will eat you alive.” The look in his own eyes is haunted, fraught with tension and worry. David must have scared him, breathing heavily and staring at the sheets of paper on the table like that. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, taking a hold of Eggsy’s left hand and bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss on the knuckles. They’re red, bruised from work- work that Eggsy claims he’s still not been authorised to tell David about, an apologetic tint in his eyes. “For-” he hesitates. How does one apologise for constantly banging on about one’s dead ex lover to one’s current lover?

It seems, though, that Eggsy’s gotten the gist of what he’s trying to apologise for because he rolls his eyes, a half smile playing on his lips. “You don’t have to be,” Eggsy says. He blinks a little, and then smiles, adding, “I love you. That won’t change, no matter what. My heart’s yours.” His pulse is beating rapidly as he chews his lower lip, waiting for David’s reaction. For good reason- it’s the first time he’s said that he loves David. 

David stares back at him, his own heart thundering again- but this time, for an entirely different reason. He loves Eggsy- has loved him ever since he’d run up behind the man in the lift lobby of that community help building, tapping on his shoulder only to be utterly flabbergasted by the beauty of the man who’s turned to face him. He’d do anything for Eggsy- move the ends of the earth, set himself on fire, kill a thousand innocents if it meant Eggsy’s safety and welfare. It should be dangerous, feeling this much for one person but David does, every fibre in his body beating in unison for Eggsy, and Eggsy only. 

“I love you too,” David says softly, bumping his nose into Eggsy’s jaw. “Of course I do, Eggsy. How could I not?” He entangles his fingers with Eggsy’s, relishing in Eggsy’s wide beam. “You’re- you’re everything.”

“You sap,” Eggsy says, his eyes twinkling. He opens his mouth as if to say more but his stomach rumbles loudly, causing him to turn red. 

“Moment ruined,” David says, failing to dodge Eggsy’s slap to his shoulder. “Let’s go for dinner before Charlie eats it all, then.” 

As Eggsy slides off his lap, stretching his back by raising his arms above his head, David looks at the offending paper boasting Julia’s demise and shoves it under Charlie’s folder. He’d get Ella to help Charlie with it instead.

*

V day is a right fucking disaster for the UK government. David’s stuck in a meeting when it happens and when he’s out of it for the second time, he realises that everyone around him is either dead, or severely injured. He’d like to think it’s not because of him but just thinking it is a fool’s errand- what did anyone expect, putting a war veteran in the same room as a bunch of pampered Politicians who’ve never ventured five feet near a war zone? 

Anne Swanson loses an eye. Mike Travis loses a leg. The head of the police force loses his life, hacked to death with a ruler by his own bodyguard, who commits suicide a week later. There’s at least three rooms full of officials with their heads mysteriously blown off- no explanation as to why. Half the government is demolished, politicians dead in the most gruesome of ways and the other half is indisposed, recovering from having been in the fight of their lives. Power hungry they may have been, but at least they had been something- the government scrambles, looking for manpower that they’ve lost in one fell swoop. In a way, David had mused once, at a conference where Anne Swanson had explained which areas, exactly, they needed to recover in, Valentine had been successful. A culling had indeed occurred- and none of them were the better for it. 

The action of killing during V day doesn’t torture David. He knows he isn’t responsible in any manner or form for it- it quite simply, hadn’t been in his control. What V day does serve to do, is reawaken his night terrors that had subsided after the therapist sessions had stopped. He wakes up every day screaming, to memories of Julia’s broken down, burnt body on the ground, the politicians around him in various bloody states of duress, Andy blowing his brains out with his rifle. They don’t stop, morphing into malicious nightmares of Julia accusing him of murdering him, of Andy spitting in his face for not helping him sooner, of the politicians sitting up around the table and staring at him in silent condemnation, their heads hanging at a ninety degree angle. He wakes up five times in one night and Anne takes one look at him before sending him home with a card in his hand. 

“You’re not going to be of much help to anyone much less me if you’re going to walk around resembling a goddamn zombie,” she says- quite bluntly, too, David thinks, disgruntled. “We haven’t been able to find a suitable replacement for Paulson, so you’ll have to make do with this.” She hands David a card which he takes, full of trepidation. “My friend Victoria’s set up a support group for war veterans and other such officials. She’s got a degree and she’s pretty fucking good, if I say so myself. Go down to her first session tomorrow, I’m giving you the rest of the week off.” 

“There’s a lot of work,” David tries to argue, and shuts up at the look on Anne’s face. 

“If you’re going to come to work just to collapse on my desk, I’d rather you take the entire year off,” Anne snaps. “I need healthy employees, PS Budd. Not dying ones.”

Anne Swanson loved her dramatics. David had decided to take her advice anyway, marching down to the community building the next morning and promptly losing his resolve until he’d spotted the man in front asking about the support group as well, voice betraying all the nervousness that David felt intimately within himself too. Back then, David still hadn’t known exactly how much chasing after Eggsy to know about the location of the support group would change his life completely. 

*

“What do you mean, the secret service is going to have jurisdiction over the police? They fucking framed me, did everyone forget that?” David hisses, keeping in step with Swanson’s long, striding ones, and then adds belatedly, “Mam.”

“No one has forgotten, I assure you,” Swanson says, looking furious herself. “But it’s out of my hands. Mike Travis, that bloody rat, has given them higher jurisdiction over the police or us in dealing with the crisis of V day- according to that no good pillock, any information regarding that will now go directly to the secret service above anything else.” 

David frowns. “But-”

“It’s out of my hands, Budd,” Swanson says firmly, stopping in her tracks and wheeling around to glare at David. David stands his ground, inclining his head respectfully, and Swanson sighs. “I wish it wasn’t, but it is. There’s nothing either you or I can do about it.” She blinks, and then adds dryly, “I suggest you not try.”

“So-”

“Our hands are off the case, and we can’t get it back anytime soon,” Swanson confirms, and then awkwardly pats David’s back. “I suggest keeping your mind off it by joining the guard detail for the new prime minister. The offer’s still open, you know.”

“Paulson never gave me a clean bill of health,” David points out. Mike Travis’ office is located at the far end of the corridor they’re standing in and David watches as the tall, thin man who’s head of the secret service leave the office, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Secret service far more powerful his arse- this is power politics at play. It had killed Julia, and now it’s doing in the government. David clenches his jaw with the force of stopping himself from yet again asking Swanson if there’s really nothing they can do. 

“Paulson’s dead,” Swanson says. “And we’re all a little bit fucked in the head anyway.”

Keeping true to Swanson’s word he tries to leave it well alone, staring at the application form to be added to the new prime minister’s guard detail on his desk. The image of the man leaving Mike Travis’ office refuses to leave his mind well alone, however, and gritting his teeth, he shoves the form into a desk drawer, closing it before standing up and leaving the office- making sure that this time, no stray eyes follow his every move. 

The corridor is empty, as it usually is this time of the day, everyone busy with either work or lunch. He approaches Mike Travers’ office and hesitates, wondering if he should step in. There’s already voices wafting out of the room, and instead he stands, craning his neck at a painful, forty five degree angle to try and suss out exactly what’s going on inside. 

“-do not at all like what is being implied here,” Travis’ voice is saying, reed thin with stress. “Why is there one entire hour of CCTV footage missing, and why have your subordinates not been able to recover it as of yet? I’m thinking that I shouldn’t have taken the case from Swanson, after all.”

“With all due respect, Mike,” the man says, voice droll and even, “it is in America. Our reach there is limited.” 

_ America _ , David thinks, heart thumping. What the hell were they up to?

“Say it’s an issue of Britain’s national security.”

“You know what the Americans are like. CIA isn’t budging.” 

There’s the shuffle of papers, and then footsteps angrily stomping across the expanse of the room- Travis is clearly hacked off. David avoids all pretense and scoots closer to the door, trying his best not to shed all his dignity outright and just press his ear to it. “What’s the name of this church? Isn’t it a hate church? Why is CIA refusing to give us the footage?”

“Likely, sir, because they don’t have it. We’ve had years of experience in dealing with CIA- They’re this cagey simply because it’s not in their possession.” The man sounds bored, like he could do much better with his time than stand around and talk- it makes David’s blood boil, just listening to him run his mouth like he hadn’t been responsible for half the trauma David had to suffer last year alone. Like he hadn’t been at least partly responsible for Julia’s death.

“I don’t like this. I especially don’t like that we now have rogue agents running around, interfering with issues of global security. Do whatever you can to find out who they are.”

“Whatever you can, sir, has a lot of implications I’m not sure you’re altogether ready for. Julia Montague certainly wasn’t,” the man says. David clenches his fist into a tight bump, the nails digging into his palm, and shoved it into his jacket pocket. It wouldn’t do at all to lose his temper now. 

“I don’t care, Stephen! Just get it done!”

David turns on his heel, walking out of the corridor as fast as he can. He had gone there to get some answers and instead, is now leaving with even more questions in his arsenal. Rogue agents, the safety net for the secret service being taken away- David didn’t want to be witness to the UK government turning into a tyrannical force. Fuck what Swanson said- he had to do  _ something _ . He had to-

He had to talk to Eggsy, he realises. 

*

As Eggsy’s lover, David’s well within his rights to be suspicious about his occupation. And there are many, many things to be suspicious about Eggsy’s occupation- things that don’t click, or point to Eggsy having a normal, run of the mill job of any ordinary agent. 

The first is the outfits that Eggsy leaves the house in. Each outfit is a neat, three piece suit with a unique design- some of the quirkier ones are worn more often than others. There’s a brown one with a zig zag pattern that he wears at least twice every week, a bright orange one that hurts David to even look at for just a second, a light blue floral one, and many more. Of course suits constitute formal office wear for many jobs, including David’s own- but such unorthodox outfits would usually cause each of David’s colleagues to collapse into a conniption- and probably earn David himself a suspension. Granted, each and every single suit that Eggsy wears with such flair makes David want to rip it off him piece by piece but the non monkey, rational part of David’s brain wonders. Which job in the world- much less a job in the field of espionage, which itself defines covert- allows such a flamboyant flexibility in the outfits worn to it?

The second is the arsenal that Eggsy carries with him- which is precisely none, save for a tiny Soviet style glock. Hardly enough to fend off an animal, much less a battalion of rivals. He’s got less equipment with him than even the most covert of spies, and yet he comes home every day covered in bruises, panting, exhausted but clearly victorious. It’s befuddling, to be perfectly honest- but Eggsy expertly swerves all his questions, a flinty look in his eyes that tells David that the answers to them aren’t Eggsy’s to give. 

“Merlin was mad at me for telling you I’m an operative,” Eggsy had mumbled once, when they were both high off smoking weed, the smoke fogging up the room as Eggsy’s head lay pillowed on his thigh. “Said we are covert, and covert means secrecy.”

“I’m your boyfriend,” David had said indignantly. 

“Merlin don’t know what a boyfriend is,” Eggsy had said sagely, tracing shapes in the air with his fingers. “He ain’t human.”

The third is that to date, David has never met any of Eggsy’s colleagues. Eggsy, on the other hand, has met every single one of David’s colleagues, including the ones that David doesn’t particularly care for. It makes David wonder, sometimes- he never brings it up, but he wonders. Is it because Eggsy’s ashamed of him? He’s ashamed of himself- half the nights he screams both himself and Eggsy awake with Julia’s bloodied, burnt face carved into the back of his eyelids, the memory of the stench of burnt flesh making his eyes water. He doesn’t blame Eggsy for being ashamed of him except that’s not it, because David’s already met and gets along pretty well with both Daisy and Michelle Unwin. David’s never heard of a government service so deeply covert that each operative under its employ can never be seen in public with each other. The codenames are Arthurian in nature- David’s caught Eggsy saying Lancelot, Arthur, and Gawain into thin air once, and suffice it to say that that had been a shock. David’s too much of a coward to ask Eggsy about it- the quirks of the service he works for, the codenames, the overwhelming secrecy of it all- but the mystery and intrigue of it keeps him up at night, sometimes, the itch in his fingers to go digging through Eggsy’s things to find out what the fuck the love of his life works for kept barely at bay by his love and respect for Eggsy. 

There is one thing that David’s bloody well certain of, however, and that is that whoever Eggsy works for- they’re fucking powerful. Eggsy comes home one day bleeding and filthy, and coincidentally, a hostage situation in the metro was said to be mitigated mysteriously by no one at all. Eggsy has to go to Madrid for a mission at the same time as a terrorist group starts tearing it up in the exact same locale, and comes back coincidentally when it all stops and is resolved. Too many variables coinciding all at once- David’s not the sharpest crayon in the block but he’s no fool. What sort of secret service, he wonders, has no regard for the boundaries of sovereignty? 

So it may be true that David’s not certain about many things regarding Eggsy’s job but he is certain of one, and that is that an organisation that’s able to send Eggsy to mitigate a hostage situation in Indonesia one day and send Eggsy to break up a drug ring in South London the very next must be a very well-coordinated, capable organisation indeed. And that is an organisation, David knows, that will definitely be able to stop Mike Travis’ single handed venture to gain more power in the government. 

*

“This is a nice place,” Eggsy says, beaming, as they sit down at the  _ La Pierre _ . It’s a fancy restaurant, well out of David’s price range but for today, he needs to pull out all the stops. The waiters are actually dressed in outfits with little angel wings attached to them, expertly weaving in and out of the tables without the least bit of concern that the feathers may knock the plates off. David’s booked a reservation for the farthest corner of the restaurant, tucked behind a pillar and out of sight of the rest of the tables. When Eggsy had seen where the waiters had been leading them to, he’d bounced on his heels and clutched David’s arm in excitement. 

“David, love, this is way too expensive,” Eggsy hisses now, leaning close. He jabs a finger at the menu, looking pale. “Look at this steak- that’s a whole day’s worth of pay, gone just like that!”

“And I’m paying so you don’t need to worry,” David says firmly, taking the menu back and internally wincing at the list of prices printed on it in clear black print. He’s never been frugal, but this restaurant makes him want to be for the next month or so. 

“Like hell you’re paying for this alone,” Eggsy says firmly. “I’m paying too-”

“Too bad, because I’ve already informed them to bill it to me,” David informs him astutely, relishing in Eggsy pressing his lips together, looking furious. “Eggsy, come on- this is a treat. Don’t think about the prices, don’t think about the fancy food-” he reaches over the table, and grips Eggsy’s hand in his. Their hands interlock, the fingers intertwined with no space in between, puzzle pieces coming together in perfect harmony. “It’s just us, darling,” he says quietly. 

There’s a small smile playing on Eggsy’s lips. “Fine,” he says, a half grumble. 

They make small talk while waiting for the food to arrive- Daisy, David learns, got detention for punching a boy at school. 

“What for?” David asks in shock. Daisy’s a little firecracker- the first time they’d met, she’d kicked his shin. Eggsy had pressed a bag of frozen peas to his shin after that, apologising profusely while Michelle Unwin reprimanded a severely unrepentant Daisy. There were only two things she loved in the world, Daisy had informed David once very astutely, a severe glint in her eye- Eggsy and chocolate ice cream. 

“He stomped on her crayons,” Eggsy says dryly. “The entire bridge of his nose is broken, David- I really don’t know where she gets it from. Mum’s furious, obviously, but Daisy told me she’d do it again because he’s a little prick.”

Their food arrives- Turkish delight with a side of mashed potatoes and baked beans, Eggsy’s favourite- and Eggsy tastes the first spoonful before letting out an absolutely sinful moan. “Oh my god, this tastes better than sex,” he says- a little too loudly, as the family two tables away sends them a glare. 

“You’re going to get us thrown out,” David says, starting on his own food too. Eggsy’s right, the food  _ is _ fantastic. Eggsy’s eyes twinkle as he digs in and David smiles, his heart light.

They’re halfway into the meal when Eggsy suddenly sighs, putting down his fork and spoon. “What’s wrong?” David asks, putting his own cutlery down as well. 

“It’s just- this is really romantic,” Eggsy says helplessly. “Romantic candelit dinner at an expensive, posh restaurant with a gorgeous bloke- I could only dream of this, once.” He twists the napkin between his fingers, the expression on his face one of confusion and at complete contrast with his words. 

“Aren’t you having a great time?” David asks anxiously, trying to decide if it would be acceptable to reach for Eggsy’s hand. Eggsy nods his head vigorously, almost frantic.

“Of course! It’s always great whenever I’m with you,” Eggsy reassures him, reaching for his hand instead, his thumb rubbing over David’s knuckles in a repetitive, soothing motion that manages to make David feel less anxious. Eggsy’s great at that, managing to make David feel less frantic and at odds in his own skin just by being present. “It’s just- I’m not calling us unromantic, but we rarely ever do this.” 

David tenses. Eggsy feels him tense, and visibly bites on his bottom lip, clearly nervous, but continues, “It’s just- it’s neither of our birthdays, our anniversary was a week ago, so I was just- are you breaking up with me?”

“What?” David stares at Eggsy, completely dumbfounded. Just the thought of it is enough to make his stomach turn in on itself. The steak suddenly looks less appetising. “Absolutely not! Eggsy, I would never.”

Eggsy smiles tremulously. “I just- expensive dinner, and we’re both dressed nice, I just thought-”

“Eggsy, I’d be an idiot to even think of losing you like that,” David hastily says, bringing Eggsy’s hand to his lip in a kiss that Eggsy giggles at. “I just- there was another reason, actually.” 

He pauses. Eggsy waits, eyes wide and expectant, and when David doesn’t say anything, he prompts, “Well?”

“It was- I’m-” David coughs, and lets out a frustrated growl. “This is- I don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning is always good,” Eggsy says, a light jibe, but his eyes betray his worries- he’s still fearful, David realizes, fearful that David will leave him. In moments like these, David is suddenly reminded that it is Eggsy’s heart he holds in his hands, and when before this fact would terrify him, now it bolsters him. Eggsy loves him, and is going to do his best to help him.

“V day was a disaster,” David says. “You know this as much as I do. It was a disaster for the government- so many lost, my boss was left without an eye and the home secretary without a hand. My department was looking into V day- why it came about, who did it. We got as far to figuring out that Richmond Valentine was responsible for it, and that the SIM cards he gave out were responsible for the signal, as well as that some unknown agency was responsible for stopping it.” The latter had been unfathomable, but the evidence was also unmistakeable- a weaponized umbrella discarded at the corner of the cave in the Alps, mysteriously wiped CCTV footage and the princess of Sweden expertly swerving any conversation about who exactly saved her to something inane like the weather. She had been good, but Anne Swanson had been better.

Eggsy tenses up at his words, his eyes losing the worry and becoming sharper, more focused. This is the Eggsy his fellow operatives see, David thinks. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit to himself that it was a little bit hot. “What do you mean, got as far to?”

“The home secretary took the case from us and gave it to the secret service,” David says, swallowing the resentment down. It must still show on his face, though, because Eggsy reaches across the table to grab his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know firsthand how ruthless they are because they tried to frame me for Julia’s murder and would have gotten away with it too, if it hadn’t been for-” he swallows roughly again, thinking of the gun in the attic. This was neither the time nor the place to start thinking about that.

Eggsy’s hand tightens on his, causing him to look up again. He’s frowning, pretty lips downturned at the sides as he says, “You don’t want the case to be given to the secret service?”

“I don’t trust them and neither does my boss,” David says. “They’ve- they’re going to America next. Some South Glade Mission church-”

Eggsy stiffens, eyes wide.

“They’ll stop at nothing to find the truth,” David says quietly. “I didn’t even think they could be capable of ignoring national boundaries to pursue a case. Of course everyone wants to know what happened but there’s a limit to how far you can go. They don’t know that. Limits are foreign to them.”

“What do you want me to do?” Eggsy asks, his expression open and sincere. It’s not sarcasm; it’s a genuine question David wishes he has the answer to.

“I don’t know,” David says roughly, looking away to avoid what he’s sure is going to be a look of consternation and exasperation on Eggsy’s face. “I didn’t think that far ahead. I just knew I needed help to stop them from going to the States.”

“The Yanks won’t take lightly to the British secret service being on their soil,” Eggsy says. He taps once on David’s hand and David instantly looks at him again- his brow is scrunched as he’s staring at their conjoined hands in concentration, clearly trying to figure things out. “And V day- I know Merlin would throw a fit. I’m taking you to see him, first thing tomorrow.”

“It’s a Sunday,” David points out, bewildered and more than a little grateful. He’d assumed that the best he would ever get out of Eggsy would be a polite refusal. This is better than the wildest of his dreams.

Eggsy grins, his smile light and cheeky. It makes David want to kiss him and never let go. “No days off for spies, Kevin Costner.”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for mention of graphic violence

Merlin’s intimidating- terrifyingly so. He rather looks like a hitman for a mafia, David muses, even though he’s in a warm sweater outfitted with patches, a clipboard in his hands. It’s just something about the way he stands that demands David’s attention, keeping his back ramrod straight and his expression unreadable. On a good day, David feels that Merlin would be able to scare little kids. This isn’t a good day, judging by the unimpressed look on his face. 

“And why,” Merlin says, arms crossed, “have you brought a complete civilian into Kingsman?”

Eggsy is undeterred, judging by the placid look on his face. “Because he needs help, Merlin,” he points out, voice even. “Is that not what we do? Help people?”  


“Not complete civilians,” Merlin parries, his arms folded over his chest. They’re all seated in what Eggsy had told David was the Round Table room- weirdly, it didn’t have any round tables. Just a long, massive rectangular table with twelve chairs and a large chair at the head of it. 

“It’s a callback to Arthurian Legend,” Eggsy had explained when David had pointed it out, and then had elaborated, when David looked confused, “Twelve knights? Lancelot was Arthur’s most trusted knight?”  


“History wasn’t my strongest suit,” David had said defensively. In response, Eggsy hadn’t reacted with any derision at all; instead he’d grinned stupidly wide before placing a wet kiss on his cheek. “You’re adorable,” he’d told David. “We’re called Kingsman, and agents are named after each of King Arthur’s knights. I’m Gawain, for example. I have a best friend too- her name’s Roxy, and she’s Lancelot.”  


Merlin, Eggsy had told David, was their interim boss. “He’s usually our hacker dude,” he’d said as they’d waited in the expansive large room, portraits of what were labelled as past Arthurs staring down at them. “But our- I mean, a lot of agents died during V day. He’d been all we’d had left.”

David can see why, funnily enough. Merlin felt dangerous, in a discreet manner- it rested in his eyes as he stared David down and his legs, relaxed but still at parade rest. If he’d met Merlin on the street, he would definitely walk the other way. 

“David’s not a complete civilian,” Eggsy shoots back, eyebrow arched. “He’s in the Royal Guard.” David opens his mouth to say that actually, he never did sign the form, and then shuts it when Eggsy not so subtly stomps on his foot. 

Merlin’s expression just grows all the more severe. “A civilian, Eggsy? You agreed to the rules the moment you stepped in for the Kingsman trials. You shouldn’t have-”

“At least _listen_ to what we have to say-”

“Please,” David cuts in, stepping forward, refusing to flinch when Merlin turns the full force of his glare on him. He’s faced down being strapped to a fucking bomb- he absolutely refuses to be cowed by someone in a jumper. Someone in a jumper who, admittedly, scarily resembled the head of an Italian mafia. “I wouldn’t have gone to Eggsy for help if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

Merlin’s silent for a while, eyes searching him, and David waits with bated breath. “Fine,” Merlin finally says. “Speak.”

“I work as part of the Royalty and Specialist Protection division of the defense sector,” David says, trying not to sound too relieved. “I was- I don’t know if you follow the news-”

“The home secretary,” Merlin says, eyes widening. “You were the one strapped to that bomb?” 

At the mention, David’s left hand trembles- the phantom feeling of the DMS button there, like a sinister caress. He shoves it into his jacket pocket, nodding. Merlin, ever sharp, follows the movement with his eyes before turning on Eggsy. 

“You didn’t tell me you were dating the Home Secretary’s bodyguard,” he tells Eggsy accusingly. In response, Eggsy raises his hands slightly, arguing, “You didn’t- wait, how did you know we were dating? Maybe he’s just a mate, Merlin.”

“Andrew told me you two kissed in front of the dressing rooms before going in,” Merlin points out, eyebrow raised, and Eggsy turns scarlet. David isn’t faring any better, feeling his own cheeks heat up as well. “Unless you’re telling me you greet all your mates like that?”

“No, but-”

“You’re a high profile man,” Merlin says, talking over Eggsy as he turns to look at David. “And we don’t do high profile at Kingsman. You better have a good reason-”

“How does V day being brought out into the open sound?” Eggsy says curtly, and Merlin audibly closes his mouth with a click. “You owe it to him to hear him out, at least. You don’t know what he’s been through because of-” Eggsy swallows roughly, his throat working, and David reaches over to entangle his fingers with his own. Eggsy grips onto his hand, the hold vice like and tight. “You don’t know what he’s been through,” Eggsy finishes. 

“And have you told him everything?” Merlin parries back, his voice tense. 

David stares at the both of them, the sinking feeling in his stomach telling him that he’s missing a huge part of the plot here. “Tell me what?”   


“You didn’t tell him?” Merlin asks, and then his lips twitch in a smile that doesn’t feel genuine. “Small mercies for keeping something from him, at least.”

“I can keep my trap shut and he knows missions are classified,” Eggsy retorts. The air is quickly becoming heated and David feels anxious, clammy- this hadn’t been how it was supposed to go. It’s too much trouble, and he knows now that he shouldn’t have asked for help. Eggsy’s willing because he’s Eggsy, heart of gold and ready to extend a willing hand to everyone who needs it. But the world isn’t full of Eggsys, as this encounter is quickly revealing. “It’s alright, actually,” David says hesitantly. “It’s clearly too much trouble, so-”  


“It’s _not_ ,” Eggsy says, clenching down on David’s hand. “David, keep talking- Merlin, stop being a twat and listen.”

“I’m still your superior,” Merlin says tensely. “Go on then, Sergeant.”  


“There was a shake up in power once Julia died,” David says shakily. “Mike Travis became the Home Secretary. Anne Sampson became my boss, because my boss-” he clears his throat. There’s no need to go into all that Lorraine had done. “I was one of those in charge of the V day case file. We were investigating what went down, who did it. We got so far as to figuring out that it was Valentine and he’d used the SIM cards to channel a neuro signal that would turn everyone murderous before the case got taken away from us.”  


Merlin’s eyes are rapt, severe. It’s making David exceedingly nervous, like he’s at grade school doing a fucking presentation again. Eggsy’s grip on his own is solid, warm and when he flicks his gaze to the side Eggsy’s staring at him, eyes full of love and support. Whatever happens, Eggsy will be by his side. The thought gives him the courage he needs to continue.   


“I was suspicious. Anne told me to let it go, said that things weren’t in our control but I refused to believe her. I did a little bit of snooping, and followed Mike Travis to his office, where he was consorting with the head of the secret service. He’d taken the case from us because he wanted the secret service to investigate it.” David spreads his hands out, beseeching. The look on Merlin’s face is placid, unreadable, and he finds that he intensely hates it. “The secret service tried to frame me for Julia’s murder. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want. I’m all for cracking this case but not if people get hurt or killed in the process.”

Merlin’s silent, his face still unreadable. David feels his own heart sink rapidly like a stone. He should have known better than to come here and ask for help, he thinks distantly.

“Come on, Merlin,” Eggsy snaps, still gripping onto his hand tightly. “We’ve got to help. We can’t let people like that handle the aftermath of V day. And you know how much-”

“Our tracks are clean,” Merlin says, gaze still not shifting from David. “And correct me if I’m wrong, Sergeant Budd, but this is a result of a power struggle, is it not?”

“Not exactly a power struggle-”

“Both Mike Travers and Anne Sampson want the spot of the top dog and you’re in the middle of it,” Merlin stated flatly, crossing his own arms over his chest again. “A power struggle occurring at one of the highest levels of the UK government. If this was Chester, Eggsy, he’d interfere and swing things his way. But Kingsman doesn’t work like that anymore. We operate at the highest level of discretion-”

“But he needs _help!”_ Eggsy shouts. His voice bounces off the walls, loud and full of righteous rage. “What if they try to pin V day on innocent people just because they want the glory of cracking the case open? You’re gonna let that happen?”

Merlin’s gaze finally shifts to Eggsy, flinty and annoyed. “We can’t interfere, Gawain,” he says, exasperated. “Kingsman doesn’t do that. We choose what we help with. And this is not what we’re choosing.”

David swallows, the rejection sitting hot in his throat. He’s on his own, he thinks- just like he always is. Just like he’d been with Julia. His heart beating rapidly fast, he shrinks back into the seat and tries to go through the breathing exercises he’d been taught. In, one, out, two-

“I thought Kingsman _helps_ people,” Eggsy fairly yells, his hands flailing about as he lets go of David. His face is twisted in emotion, impassioned and furious. David stares up at him, agape- Eggsy, angry on his behalf, believing in him with the full force of his faith. The sight is beautiful, and humbling. He’s not on his own this time round- he has Eggsy. “I thought we were getting off our high horse and helping those that need it.”

“We can’t help those who’d jeopardise us,” Merlin says, his voice full of steel. “Gawain, you’re stepping out of line- it’s enough that you brought a civilian into Kingsman territory. What made you think I was ever going to say yes to such a tall order?”

“I don’t know,” Eggsy snaps, “I truly don’t.” His hand scrabbles at his fingers, grasping until he pulls off the ring marked with a K. He then slaps it onto the table between them with a loud thud, as Merlin’s eyes widen in shock. “Forgive me for having a little more faith than I should have had in my boss, Merlin.” 

“Eggsy,” Merlin snaps as well, “for god’s sake, don’t act up-”

“The aristocrats with weak chins never left,” Eggsy hisses, his voice full of venom. “He’s standing right in front of me.” He grabs David’s hand again, intertwining their fingers before spinning on his heel and quickly walking out of the door, pulling David along with him. David stumbles along behind him, not daring to look back at Merlin. Merlin doesn’t come after them, standing still at his spot in front of the ring on the table, and David feels the imprint of his glower in the back of his head, sharp and searing. 

Eggsy doesn’t stop walking until they’re out of the building, standing in front of a nondescript black taxi. He slides into the front seat, as David positions himself in the driver’s seat. It’s only when they’re halfway down the road from the huge Kingsman estate heading back to the heart of London when he finally releases the breath he’d been evidently holding, his eyes strangely misty.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Eggsy croaks, clasping his hand onto David’s left wrist. “I thought he’d help, I really did.”

“ _You_ , sorry?” David says, gaping. “Love, I’m sorry for asking for help. I shouldn’t have-”

“No, you should have,” Eggsy says, the look on his face full of determination. He rubs a thumb over the back of David’s wrist, adding, “I may have just left my job, but I’m still- we’re still capable of figuring this out ourselves, aren’t we?”

“Are we?” David asks, skeptical. “You aren’t telling me all that you know about V day, and I can’t ever ask you to. I don’t- I don’t know if we should even pursue this. Maybe Merlin was right and it’s just a harmless power struggle.”

“But what if he isn’t and innocent people die because we were too scared to do anything about it?” Eggsy insists, twisting around in his seat until he’s facing him. David keeps his gaze on the road, but out of his periphery he sees Eggsy run a hand through his own hair, agitated. “I’ll tell you all you want to know about V day.”

“I can’t ask you to-” David starts to argue, but before he’s even done Eggsy’s already shaking his head.

“I want to tell you, darling,” Eggsy says softly, moving his hand up David’s arm to scratch through David’s hair in a considerably more gentle manner than he’d done his own. David leans his head into the touch, feeling how it instantly calms him. “I always have, this just- speeds up the schedule a little.” He smiles ruefully, adding, “not like Merlin can stop me now, can he?”

“He’ll be asking for you back before long,” David confirms. “I’d put my money on it.”

Eggsy shrugs non committally, the look on his face uncertain and forlorn- it rips at David’s heart, how little Eggsy thinks of himself. He lifts one hand from the steering wheel to grab a hold of Eggsy’s hand, lifting it to his mouth for a soft press of his lips. 

“We need to figure out where to go to investigate the secret service,” Eggsy says, smoothing his thumb over David’s hand. “Can you remember any details? Any locations they mentioned?”

“Some church, I think,” David says, frowning as he scours his own memory for detail. “Some- South church?”

Eggsy’s eyes widens. “South Glade Mission church? In Kentucky?”

“I think so,” David says, raising his own eyebrows slightly at the accuracy. “How did you- V day?”

“Yeah,” Eggsy says, looking sheepish. He continues rubbing his thumb over the back of David’s hand in soothing, concentric circles, adding, “Guess we’re heading to America, huh?”

“Guess we are,” David says, grinning and bringing Eggsy’s hand to his lips for another kiss again. “You know, I could still do this on my own-”

“Not a chance in hell,” Eggsy says, stretching the passenger seat back and placing his legs on the dashboard. He grips on tighter to David’s hand, his hold vice like and making the edges of David’s heart sing. “I’d follow you to the ends of the earth, David Budd.”

*

“Vacation?” Anne Sampson says skeptically, looking at the form David’s placed in front of her. David shifts, uneasy. 

“Yeah, I’ve racked up a lot of leave, so I thought I’d- catch up on that,” David finishes lamely, and adds belatedly, “Mam.” Eggsy’s been a bad influence on him, these days he hardly stands at parade rest anymore. He resists the urge to shove his hands in his pockets just like Eggsy does when he forgets his agent persona. 

“With your family?” Anne asks, signing off on the form and handing it back to David. “Where are you going?”

“Kentucky,” David says. “And- no. With my partner.”

“Eggsy Unwin, your boyfriend,” Anne clarifies almost immediately, making David’s eyebrows raise. The answer had been a tad too fast. 

“Keep tabs on all your employees?”

“No, you’re just special,” Anne says, snorting. “Of course we do, it’s protocol. No one’s business is safe within these walls. Interesting history, your boyfriend- ex marines, was arrested for stealing a car and then refusing to run over a fox, before becoming a Savile Row tailor.”

David blinks at her for a bit, confused before he remembers that Eggsy had told him the cover for Kingsman is a tailor shop on Savile Row street. “Andrew does all the tailoring for people who do come in,” he’d said, as they sat with a couple of cheeseburgers at a Macdonalds after the disastrous meeting with Merlin. “Gets us a bit of cash on the side.”

“Can you tailor?” David had asked, curious. In response, Eggsy had snorted so loudly a neighbouring family looked over. “Harry tried to teach me, once,” he’d said, waving a fry. “But I’m fucking horrible at it.”

“Anyway, I hope you have a nice vacation,” Anne says. “Please refrain from taking any work with you.” She takes off her glasses and clears her throat, looking up from where she’s sitting at the table. Her eyes, usually severe, are now deadly serious. “Mike Travis is apparently going on vacation to Kentucky as well- next week too, just like you. I do hope it’s just a coincidence.” 

David’s heart races. Mike going over personally- it didn’t exactly bode well. He keeps his face blank and unreadable and hopes to god he succeeds as he says, “Just a coincidence, Mam.”

Anne glares at him for a few more seconds, searching him for any hints of a lie. David looks back serenely, the small of his back cold with sweat. For a few tense seconds, they stare at each other, locked in some sort of a stare-down. Finally, Anne snorts again, and David releases an inner sigh of relief. “What’s with Kentucky?” Anne wonders. “Maybe I should book a vacation there as well once I’m done sorting this mess out.”

“I wouldn’t know,” David says, taking the form in his hands. “I just go where Eggsy tells me to.”

Outside Anne’s office, he collides with none other than the man himself- Mike Travis in the flesh. Today he’s clad in a grey suit, tie neatly done up and bald head shiny with sweat. David takes in his harried appearance, also noting how the air conditioner within the building has turned the temperature down to 17 degrees. There shouldn’t be a reason for Travis to perspire like he’s just run a marathon, at all. 

“Budd,” he says, distant. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Sir,” David says, inclining his head respectfully. He looks down, noticing that Travers’ right hand is heavily bandaged. Noticing his gaze, Travers shoves the hand into his pocket, laughing. “Sliced it on a knife,” Travers says. “Wife told me to keep out the kitchen, but I didn’t listen. So, Kentucky, eh?”

“Yes, sir,” David says, keeping his arms at parade rest. Travers definitely hadn’t sliced that hand on a kitchen knife- no kitchen knife would have dealt that much damage. Apparently this time round, he was getting involved in the dirty work himself. 

“Perhaps we’ll see each other,” Travers suggests, his eyes flinty. “I too, am going on vacation.”

“With your wife?” David suggests.

“No, alone,” Travers says, waving a hand airily. “I like to be alone, sometimes. Being solitary- it’s good for you, you know.”

David from a few months ago would have agreed. David now, with Eggsy by his side knows that it’s absolutely not true. 

Mike Travers nods at him, opens his mouth as if to say something else and then closes it abruptly before leaving, hurrying down the hallway. David stares after his retreating figure, the suspicion building in his head before he leaves as well, heading back to his own cubicle. 

When Anne had taken over from Lorraine, she’d changed David’s work station as well as a sign of goodwill. His new cubicle is more isolated, stationed by the window and giving a fantastic view of the London bustle. Once at his seat, David fishes his phone out of his pocket and rings Eggsy. 

At the first ring, Eggsy picks up. “Hey,” he says breathlessly. “She approved it?”

“Yes,” David confirms, Mike Travis’ bleeding hand still on his mind. “You booked the plane tickets?”

“Two to Kentucky, from Jamal’s account,” Eggsy says, and then distantly, yelps, “JB, get down! You fat lazy dog, it’s the middle of the fucking day and you-”

“Don’t yell at him, he’s just tired,” David says, amused, as the sounds of shuffling and Eggsy cursing come over the phone. If he’s guessing right, Eggsy had probably tried to shove JB away before giving up and letting JB into his lap anyway. He closes his eyes, imagining it in his head- Eggsy cross legged on their bed, dressed in just a pair of boxers and David’s university sweatshirts he loved to appropriate, scowling down at the dozy pug on his lap but scratching away behind his ears anyway. 

“Tired after eating his weight’s worth in dog treats,” Eggsy grumbles. “And after yesterday, too! Don’t think I didn’t see you feed him that extra ham under the table- you know he’s on a diet-”

“I didn’t feed him anything,” David protests, and at Eggsy’s scoff, adds, “he looked at me with those eyes! How could I say no?”

“He’s going to weigh heavier than both of us combined one of these days,” Eggsy gripes, before adding, “I’ve booked us a honeymoon suite, by the way- hope you don’t mind. Apparently everywhere else was full.”

“Of course not,” David says softly, grinning. Staying in a honeymoon’s suite with Eggsy like this was not how he planned his first vacation with Eggsy to be like, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t like the sound of it. “Not how I envisioned our first stay in a honeymoon suite, though.”

“Me neither,” Eggsy says, the smile in his voice audible. “I don’t mind it, though. Do you?”

“Never,” David says. “You could have booked us a room in a garbage dump and it’d still be far better than all the vacations in my life thus far.” _Simply because it’s with you_ , he doesn’t say, but he knows Eggsy hears it anyway.

*

Vicky’s surprised to hear that David’s going on vacation- even more so to find out David’s booked tickets for her and the kids as well.

“Iceland,” she says, looking at the tickets as they stand in the kitchen. Eggsy’s with the kids in the living room, watching _The Princess Bride_ \- he’s having fun reciting all the lines to them. “Isn’t it freezing?”

“Not at all, Greenland’s the one that’s cold,” David points out. He shifts on his feet nervously, fingers playing out an erratic pattern on his elbow. It’s tics like these that clue Vicky in to something perhaps being off but he can’t help it- acting out when he’s anxious and knows he’s perhaps about to go against his own boss is second nature to him by now. 

“And where are you and Eggsy going?” Vicky asks, still turning over the airplane tickets in her hands. She’s biting on her bottom lip the way she does when she’s thinking really hard about something, mulling it over. 

“Kentucky,” David says, trying his best to keep his own face unreadable. “It’s- Eggsy really wants to go. We just thought you might want to take the kids somewhere as well.”

“Kentucky?” Vicky says suspiciously, looking up. “For a vacation?”

“They have nice hotels,” David says defensively. From the living room, Charlie laughs loudly and David looks out the door to see Eggsy ruffle his hair, his eyes twinkling with the force of his smile. Sometimes when Eggsy grinned really wide, his eyes lit up with the force of it, resembling the sun. “Will you go, then?”

“All paid for,” Vicky murmurs, looking at the sheaf of paper’s containing the hotel details. Her pretty eyebrows scrunch together in a look far too introspective for David’s liking. “Where did you get this kind of money?”

Before Eggsy had very theatrically quit Kingsman, he’d explained that Kingsman paid exceedingly well- well enough to make them set up for the rest of their lives even after giving Michelle and Daisy a fair bit of his salary. “Loads of benefits, probably due to the health risk,” Eggsy had explained, selecting a five star hotel for the kids and Vicky. “So you’ll have to let me pay for everything, obviously.”

“Absolutely not-” David had argued, before Eggsy had started shaking his head vigorously. 

“No, they deserve to have the best time of their lives in fucking Iceland,” Eggsy had argued. He’d picked up David’s hand, placing a kiss onto it and holding onto it tightly, quelling the minute trembling. “Let me do this, darling.” 

“Eggsy’s well off, and I can’t say no to him,” David admits, as Eggsy whoops at something on the screen from the living room. “Come on, Vicky, it will be fun. A nice trip out.”

Vicky’s jaw works, before she bursts out, “I’m not stupid, David! You and Eggsy going to fucking Kentucky for a vacation? Telling me to take my kids far away to the other side of the planet for our own vacation? David, what’s going on?”

From the living room, Eggsy cheers again, and Ella giggles loudly. Vicky sighs, squeezing the bridge of her nose with her left hand, right hand clutching the airplane tickets. David swallows, looking at her and wanting nothing more than to willingly hug her like they used to- before even being friends became a chore. 

“Just do what I say, Vicky,” David says tersely. “Please. For me.”

“If I’m going to do anything, David,” Vicky snaps, “it’s going to be for my kids.”

They’re quiet for a while, staring at each other in the quiet of the kitchen. A grey strand falls over Vicky’s forehead- when did they start growing old, and apart as well? David still remembers taking Vicky to the mall when they were teenagers, making out at the back of the cinema. And now they’re here, in Vicky’s kitchen with him trying to convince her to flee to a remote part of the world with their kids so that he and his boyfriend can investigate the British government without the worry of their safety hanging over their heads like Damocles’ sword. He wouldn’t change it, but he sure wished he’d had an easier time of it. 

Eggsy laughs again from the living room, Charlie joining him. Vicky visibly relaxes, her left hand lowering to grip her elbow. “He’s good with kids,” she says softly. 

“Better than I ever was,” David says, and when Vicky opens her mouth to protest, shakes his head, grinning sadly. “Don’t lie, Vicky- it never suited you. I was horrible with them. Still am. This is- ensuring you are all safe, it’s all I can do, sometimes. Let me.”

Vicky’s quiet, tapping her foot on the tile, and then sighs loudly in clear defeat. “Alright, then,” she says. “We’ll go to fucking Iceland. Just promise me you’ll come back to us in one piece.”

David grimaces, images of Julia’s burnt body flashing through his head. That’s a promise he’s never going to be able the make. “I can’t-”

“Lie, then,” Vicky says firmly. “And do your hardest to come back.”

*

It’s on the plane ride there that Eggsy tells David about V day. The whole thing sounds almost too fantastical to be true- bionic henchmen, a secret lair in a hidden cave, the entire fate of the world dependent on three spies who somehow miraculously managed to pull it off. It’s a little bit like-

“Like a spy movie,” Eggsy confirms, nodding. “Except you know, the suave spy died and now there’s just me left. The chav.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” David insists, but Eggsy keeps looking straight ahead, jaw clenched and eyes looking strangely bright. He reaches forward, coaxing Eggsy’s tight fist on the armrest open and interlocking his fingers with his. “In fact, I’d say you were pretty fucking incredible, bringing down Valentine like that.”

“Was I?” Eggsy chokes, his voice hoarse as if he’s spent the last ten minutes swallowing sandpaper. “The signal went on for four minutes, David. I could have made it last one, or not even at all- the whole world went to shit while I played cat and mouse with a fucking psycho.”

“You did all you could,” David says softly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Eggsy’s hand. He watches Eggsy’s breathing slow, his eyes falling close. The eyelashes cast dark shadows over the skin beneath his eyes, making him look so beautiful David’s heart physically aches. “And you did pretty damn well, considering. I’m glad you got out safe.”

“It was terrifying,” Eggsy whispers. He swallows roughly, blinking away his tears. The sight of them rips at David’s heart and he wants nothing more than to bundle Eggsy up in his arm, the yearning so strong it makes him physically breathless. “And what good did it do, anyway? The world still burned. People have to live with the knowledge of killing their loved ones. _I_ have to live with the knowledge that I turned the switch that killed half of the world’s leaders.”

“Corrupt leaders,” David corrects, nudging the glass of coke on the tray in front of them towards Eggsy. The man to Eggsy’s side is snoring away, belt unclipped and head lolling off to the side. Eggsy grabs the drink, taking a sip with his eyes distant and unseeing. 

“Still human,” he says hoarsely. “Corrupt they may be but at least they were doing their jobs. What right did Merlin or I have to decide they had to die?”

“You didn’t,” David says, thinking about Nadia in her bomber vest, terrified in the toilet, a veneer that had taken David and the rest of the government along for a ride. “But you were pressed for time.”

Eggsy is quiet, nibbling on the bottom of his lip. His grip on David’s is almost vice tight. David doesn’t loosen it. 

“I’m glad you got out safe,” he says suddenly. “I wouldn’t have met you, otherwise. And then where would I be?”

It makes Eggsy smile, turning his head to the side to place a sweet kiss on David’s cheek. “You’re cute,” he says, eyes twinkling. 

“Fuck off, I’m not,” David snorts. 

Eggsy drops off into a light doze halfway through the flight, hand still in David’s and occasionally twitching in the throes of a dream. It’s not a nightmare but it’s not a pleasant dream either- his brow is furrowed in a deep V and David presses a kiss on it, thinking about exploding heads and the signal. Eggsy had told him about Harry Hart too- experienced agent who’d killed a church full of hate mongerers before getting shot in the head by Valentine. 

“Harry was everything I wanted to be, except at the very end,” Eggsy had confessed, fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the armrest. He’d been talking about Harry in an almost clinical, detached manner, going through the motions until he’d stopped, a look full of grief permeating his eyes. “He’d lost control, and it wasn’t very nice to watch.”

“No, it can’t be,” David had murmured, thinking of his own experience in the field. How many times had he lost hold of his own senses only to come back to himself and realise everyone around him was dead? V day hadn’t been a setback but it had been fucking awful as well, senses rushing back to let him view his own hands soaked in blood to the elbow. He’d resembled a fucking extra from a horror movie and he’d felt like he was in one too. 

When he wakes Eggsy up he’s exhausted, eyes ringed with red and bottom lip bitten through. David’s not exactly all that fresh either, on account of not sleeping a wink during the entire flight. At the hotel the receptionist gives them the room key with a wink, and he doesn’t understand why until he enters the room and realised that the bed is covered in rose petals.

“Honeymoon suite,” Eggsy says, clearly embarrassed. He shucks his shoes off, heading into the bathroom. “Jesus, you can fit an entire house in this bathtub, David.” He pops back out again and twists his own hands, looking guilty. “Look, if they have other-”

“Absolutely not,” David says, grinning and pulling Eggsy close, placing a kiss onto his head. Eggsy stinks of sweat and grime and exhaustion but god if he still doesn’t smell absolutely perfect to David. He could be covered in muck, David thinks, and still be the most beautiful person in any room. “This is perfect.” 

The second their heads hit the pillow, rose petals shoved out of the way, they’re out like a light. Sleep hits David like a fucking rock and he doesn’t really dream at all, waking up hours later to the hotel balcony door open and an empty bed. He sits up groggily, head stuffed full of cotton and fumbles for his shirt before he realises its missing. Throwing on his jeans instead, he glances at the clock by his bedside- 5 am, a time when he should absolutely not be awake. The sky outside is still dark, and David stumbles to his feet, yawning and fumbling for the switch. He flicks it on, and in the light flooding the room realises that Eggsy is barely visible just outside the balcony door. He’s dressed in just his jeans, the muscle of his back tense and strained. It is still an alluring sight, drawing David in. 

David leans against the balcony door, watching Eggsy lean over the railing and stare at the front lawn of the hotel below. Juxtaposed against the night sky he’s beautiful, black jeans stark against his skin and the powerful muscle of his back riveting and almost making David’s hands itch with the urge to touch. “Go back to sleep,” Eggsy says out loud, not turning. “It’s five am.”

“Come back with me,” David says softly. He doesn’t move, watching Eggsy quietly. Eggsy lets out a breath, slow and measures, before turning and leaning back against the railing. His eyes are dark and troubled, red rimmed with exhaustion. 

“I can’t,” Eggsy says, his voice sounding achingly raw and young. “I can’t fall back asleep, my head’s weird. I just-”

“Is it the church?” David asks. Eggsy hadn’t lingered long on the topic of Harry driven to madness within the confines of the hate church, massacring everyone against his own will but David had sensed the anguish and horror he’d probably felt witnessing it- shit like that did you in for a number. David should know- it wasn’t the same, but he _had_ been posted in Iraq. “I can go alone-”

“No,” Eggsy says sharply. “No, I’ll come with you. Non-negotiable, Budd. It’s just-” he palms his face roughly, groaning. “It’s just, I keep remembering how he’d looked when it all stopped. He just- he looked so horrified. Like he couldn’t believe it. Like he didn’t know what he was capable of until that happened.” He sounds rough, almost tearful, and after a moment’s consternation David holds his arms open.

Eggsy almost dives into them, head buried into the crook of David’s neck and trembling minutely. David combs his hands through the fine hairs at the back of Eggsy’s neck, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “What are you scared of?” he whispers into the night air. “Tell me, love.”

“I idolized Harry,” Eggsy whispers, his head still buried in David’s neck. “Saw him as- saw him as my father. I don’t want to remember him as-” his voice trails off, but David understands. No one wants to remember their parent as they died, only as they lived. Eggsy had come to America with him suppressing the scared child inside of him, yearning for a father and he didn’t want that child to die on the steps of South Glade Mission Church, remembering how Harry had lost himself in the madness of the signal. 

“I get it,” David whispers. “I get it, Eggsy.” He holds Eggsy in his arms, rocking them back and forth before whispering again, “Come back to bed, Eggsy.” 

Eggsy stays where he is, resolute and fragile in David’s arms, his head turned away and buried in David’s neck still. He’s not crying but he’s frayed, no doubt not helped at all by the long flight.

“In the morning,” David adds, “you can tell me all about what Harry used to do for hobbies.”

This time when David pulls him back to bed, Eggsy follows.

*

South Glade Mission Church stands like a monument of death, a hallmark of graves. A row of headstones decorate the front, each carved with a name. The walls are off white and filthy, not really managed all that well. It seems, David muses, that everyone had wanted to wash their hands off of the massacre that had taken place inside it.

“Somehow I’d imagined it to be more clean,” Eggsy muses, from the driver’s seat. They’re parked opposite the church, keeping a watch out for anything suspicious like they’ve been doing for the past three days. So far, nothing- Mike Travis hid his footsteps well. “This looks like my old high school. No one bothered with that either.”

“It’s a hate church,” David says, idly thinking about what Eggsy had been like as a teenager. Equally bratty, no doubt. If they’d been classmates they would have hated each other- David had been a stickler for rules, the class prefect. For a second he allows himself to imagine being a kid, pulling Eggsy behind the bleachers to kiss him- and then he ditches the fantasy. There’s a time and place, after all. “I doubt anyone cares.”

“Harsh,” Eggsy says, but he’s grinning. “It had been beautiful, you know.”

“Beauty’s nothing if you house hatred,” David says, and ignores Eggsy’s whoop of, “Oh, _very_ wise!” “I bet people around here were glad to see it go.”

“The sermon Harry sat in on wasn’t that charming,” Eggsy agrees. He’s quiet for a second, tapping his fingers on the dashboard, and then says, “Wanna go in there and have sex?”

“Eggsy!” David yelps. Sometimes Eggsy really sent his head for a spin. “You can’t just say things like that-”

“Why not?” Eggsy demands, pouting. It’s pushing his bottom lip out and making him look terribly kissable, and if David wasn’t so indignant by what Eggsy had just said he’d plant a kiss on it. “Come on, they’d hate a bunch of gays fucking right on their-”

“We’re here to stake out the prime minister going possibly rogue,” David cuts in, trying not to give in and laugh at Eggsy. If possible, Eggsy grows even more petulant, huffing and looking out the window. “Not disturb the sensibilities of- what are you doing?”

“There’s a woman,” Eggsy says, jiggling the handle open and practically stumbling out of the car door. “I’ll be right back.” He slams the car door back and David peers through the window to see what indeed seems to be a woman, tall and graceful with her hair neatly done up in a bun and dressed in a simple flannel and jeans, standing over one of the many gravestones at the front of the church. A relative of one of those who had died- and those who’d died hadn’t been the friendliest bunch either. David stares at Eggsy’s back running across the road and approaching the woman, before squeezing the bridge of his nose and cursing. “Like _fuck_ I’ll let you handle this alone,” he tells the back of Eggsy as he approaches the woman, before jumping out of the car himself. 

When he’s approached them, Eggsy’s already deep in conversation with the woman. Such is his disposition, David had been quick to realise- he’s inherently warm and sincere, pulling everyone into his orbit. No one can pass up the opportunity to speak to someone who may stunt around in Fred Perry shirts and adidas shoes but is wholly, and innately good. David knows this feeling better than anyone- he doesn’t think he’ll stop marvelling at the light within Eggsy anytime soon. He knows Eggsy’s got it handled, but all the same he sidles up to Eggsy’s side, drawing him in with a hand around his waist.

“…a tragedy, really,” Eggsy says. “I lost- I lost my Dad to it, too.”

The woman, David realises, has a scar running down her cheek, her right arm a prosthetic. Her face is weathered but kind, the corners of her eyes crinkling with the force of her smile. “I know the feeling,” she says. “My sister.” She nods towards the gravestone at her feet and then smiles kindly at David. “And who might you be?”

“My boyfriend, Darren,” Eggsy says, before David can answer. Instantly, David’s on edge- the sign behind the woman proclaiming South Mission Glade Church to be a hate church screams loud and obstinate, and he stiffens. The woman’s eyes widen, the smile slipping off, and the transition is palpable. David opens his mouth to quickly murmur an insincere goodbye and pull Eggsy away, but before any words form she extends a hand towards him. “Nice to meet you, Darren,” she says pleasantly. “Lovely man you’ve got here, be sure to hold on to him.”

“I will, thank you,” David says, mystified. “I hope you don’t mind me-” Eggsy elbows him at the side, still smiling at the woman but the damage is already done. The woman doesn’t look too insulted, however, laughing lightly.

“I never shared Anna’s views,” she says, nodding towards the gravestone again. “Bit hard to, when you’re happily married to someone your own gender. She never liked my wife, either- always told me it was just a phase, that Jesus would smite me for my sins. Loved her as my sister, but as a person she was just a _fucking_ nightmare, as my own wife would say.”

David’s pretty sure his own jaw is hanging open and he closes it with a click, feeling shocked. Eggsy steps on his foot this time, and says, “Must have been hard, Maria, but I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Horrible massacre, it was, you know,” Maria continues, waving a hand at the church. “Everyone dead, and we only found out about it because of the gunshot- we like to avoid this church like the plague. Well, everyone save for that man in the nice suit, obviously.”

David’s heart damn near stops, and he feels Eggsy jerk against him. For a second, time stops, and David’s about to tell Maria to stop joking. “Sorry,” Eggsy says weakly, “the man in the suit?”

“Yes,” Maria says, giving them both a confused look. “Posh suit, head bled like a stuck pig but he was alive so they got him to South Glade hospital. He’s still in a coma and they don’t know who he is- he’s practically a local celebrity.”

Eggsy’s completely still against him, not even breathing. David squeezes his waist, the only show of support he can give, and turns to Maria. “Sorry to be a bother, mam,” he says politely, his heart pounding rapidly to which Maria laughs again, “but would you mind terribly giving the address of this hospital?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so LATE rip and when I said i'll upload this within a week too :( I promise the next chapter won't take as long because my work's coming to an end so i'll have some free time on my hands. anyway hope yall enjoy this chapter! as always im on tumblr and twitter at honkydancer


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for minor violence

David’s never liked hospitals. He’s done so much waiting in hospitals that he’s got the routine down pat- the sitting down nervously on uncomfortable chairs, the hours of doing nothing except refilling and refilling the same shitty cup of vending machine coffee, the disorienting feeling of waking up from a nap only to discover you’re still stuck in a waking nightmare. There’s nothing good about hospitals, and David’s fairly intimate with that little fun fact.

This hospital isn’t anything special either. It’s drab and dreary, stinking of disease and death and grief, people slumped over in chairs in the lobby and kids in casts waiting their turn. Eggsy’s silent at his side, eerily so as he has been ever since Maria had told them about the man being admitted to the hospital. He follows David to the receptionist as David leans over the desk, clearing his throat.

The receptionist looks up, the set of her mouth stern. “Yes?”

“A few months ago, a man was admitted,” David says hesitantly. But god, he feels nervous every single time he has to ask a receptionist at any area for something. There had been a reason he had run after Eggsy instead that first day of the support group- his anxiety flared up at the worst times. “A man in a suit? About a few hours before V day.”

Both the eyebrows of the receptionist fly up, as the stern look on her face melts into abrupt shock. “Our John Doe,” she says, sounding stunned. “We don’t know who he is, we’ve been trying to ID him for ages but nothing has come up on the database. You’re his relative?”

“His son,” Eggsy cuts in, speaking up for the first time. He’s still completely white but his hand finds David’s and gripping onto him, says, “I’ll have to see him to make sure but- I think he’s my dad. Please, if you could-”

“I can’t let you see him on a hunch,” the receptionist states flatly, and David’s heart sinks. Eggsy stiffens up beside him. “I don’t know if you’re telling the truth, or if you want to harm him instead-”

“Lady, if I wanted to kill him I wouldn’t be telling you about it, first off,” Eggsy snaps, and that’s when David decides to step in. Stepping on Eggsy’s foot, he speaks quickly before the woman’s eyebrows can completely disappear, “Look, we are pretty sure he’s his dad. You can have someone stand guard outside if he isn’t. Please, we’ve come a long way just to see him, it would be a relief if we could get what we came for.” It’s a long shot but he aims his best puppy dog look at the receptionist, widening his eyes and trying to convey how much he needs this. He keeps his foot on Eggsy’s and Eggsy blessedly stays silent.

After a tense second, the receptionist cracks. “Oh fine, we have cameras,” she grumbles. “Fourth floor, first room on your right. He’s in the intensive care unit, he’s in a coma. I’ll have a doctor come in and explain the details of his injury once it’s confirmed that he’s your relation.”

“Thank you,” David says emphatically, and pulls Eggsy in the direction of the lift doors. Once inside, he releases Eggsy who scrubs a hand over his face, groaning in a way that makes David feel exhausted to the very bone. “I’m sorry,” Eggsy says, his voice weary. “I’m just- this isn’t what I expected, I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“It’s alright,” David says quietly, watching him. In response, Eggsy vigorously shakes his head, his fringe flopping. In the meagre light of the lift he looks exhausted, eyebags pronounced and cheeks bloodless.  
  
“No, it’s not,” Eggsy says fiercely. “I acted like a right prick, and I could have blown the whole thing if you hadn’t-”

“Eggsy,” David says firmly. He reaches over and grasps onto Eggsy’s hand, holding tight. Eggsy squeezes back before letting go, his eyes suspiciously bright. “It’s alright.”

The lift doors open and Eggsy is out like a shot, David trailing along behind him. The hospital corridor is eerily quiet and sparse, next to no one on the seats save for the occasional sprawled family and the air conditioner making the whole place feel like it’s five degrees. There’s a nurse already waiting for them outside the door, her face set in a stern look. “Be careful,” she says sternly. “He’s in a coma. Hasn’t had any visitors either- you two would be the first.”

Eggsy brushes past her, opening the door to the room. “Thank you,” David tells the nurse awkwardly, who looks a little affronted at Eggsy’s brush off. “We appreciate this, you know.”

“There’s a button inside, if you need anything,” the nurse tells him, before walking off. Taking a deep breath, David opens the door which had swung shut behind Eggsy. Almost immediately, he bumps into Eggsy who’d been standing just an inch in front of the doorway. “Hey,” he says, reaching out a hand to steady Eggsy by placing it on his waist. “What is it? Is it-”

Eggsy has a hand over his mouth, clutching the lower half of his face so desperately the nails are pressing in painfully. His eyes are wide and luminous, the tears about to spill over. He doesn’t say anything, staring at the bed. David follows his gaze- there’s a man in there alright, brown hair greying at the temples and face slack in a coma. There’s a bandage over his right eye, his arm connected to an IV drip. At rest, he seems fragile, on the precipice of breaking. It’s made worse by the pallor of his skin, the way the veins stand out in sharp contrast under his skin.

“Eggsy,” he says urgently, turning. Eggsy’s eyes are still wide, his hand shaking where it’s pressed over his mouth. He raises a hand, and then withdraws it again- it wouldn’t do to shock Eggsy with the state he’s in. “Eggsy, I need an answer- is this Harry?”

Eggsy lowers the hand, and tears his gaze away to meet David’s own. “Yes,” he whispers, and the word lands like a gunshot between them, the implications enormous. “Yes, its Harry.” He swallows roughly, and then says cries, “Oh god, David, it’s Harry- Harry’s alive-”

Eggsy’s legs almost seem to alarmingly fail him, stumbling abruptly, and David instantly pulls him close. Eggsy’s nose is tucked into the crook of his neck as he feels him inhale deeply, his breathing rapid fast. He’s not crying, not quite yet, but he’s close.

“Go to him,” David whispers in his ear. “I’ll be here.”

Eggsy swallows noisily. “He’s- he-”

“He came back,” David says. The words scrape out his throat, making him bleed. _He came back,_ David doesn’t say, _when Julia didn’t._ Looking at Harry Hart’s comatose body is almost painful because it is a reminder of what David could have had, if he’d just been a tad bit faster, a tad bit more prepared, a tad bit smarter-

Eggsy’s arms raise up and wrap around his waist, squeezing him tight. “Thank you,” he says softly into his ear. “For being here.”

And then he lets go, stumbling over to the bed until he’s crashing down onto his knees, holding onto Harry’s limp hand and resting his chin on the bed cover. His shoulders are shaking, having visibly succumbed to the tears that had been threatening all this while. In the space left behind David feels awkward and cumbersome, like he doesn’t quite belong in this room of a comatose father and his grieving son. Maybe he never did, poking his nose into affairs that he simply didn’t belong in and businesses that he simply shouldn’t have cared about.

Eggsy cries at his father’s bedside, and David quietly leaves the hospital room.

*

Harry Hart, as it turns out, has several contusions in his brain and a hemorrhage that had sent him into a coma he’d as of yet been unable to wake up from. His Kingsman grade glasses had guarded against the bullet from penetrating his skull, successfully preventing what would have been a murder. The swelling had slowly but gradually gone down, according to the doctors, and it’s only a waiting game now.

“It’s a good thing you showed up when you did,” the doctor says, flipping a page in his chart. “We couldn’t keep calling him John Doe, you know.”

“Right,” David says, looking over at Eggsy whose gaze hasn’t shifted from Harry in the past few hours. He’d barely eaten anything at breakfast either, and David is this close to breaking and calling Michelle as a last resort. “He’s been in a coma all this time?”

“Yes, but his vitals have been improving,” the doctor says, flipping back to the first page on his chart and clapping David on the shoulder. “We’re rather confused as to how he ended up in the hate church, actually- British guy, you don’t see a lot of that here.”

“Not really sure either,” David lies. “Dementia, maybe. He’s old.”

From his bedside, Eggsy snorts.

“Whatever may be the case, the massacre did a number on him. We’re still unsure as to what exactly happened but you should count yourselves lucky he escaped with any of his brains intact at all.” At the doctor’s words Eggsy stiffens, his hands clenched on the bedsheets with his knuckles standing out in sharp contrast. David almost physically aches with the urge to go over to him, wrap him up in his arms and never let go. It’s times like these, looking over at Eggsy with his head bowed and his eyes cast down that David knows he’d do anything just to see the corner of Eggsy’s lips lift in an impossibly endearing cheeky smile again.

The doctor takes his leave, and after the door of the room swings shut behind him David walks over to Eggsy, sitting down on the chair beside his. “Hey,” he says quietly, gently placing his hand on top of Eggsy’s clenched one on the bed. “How’re you holding up?”

“As well as I can be, I suppose,” Eggsy murmurs, his voice hoarse and soft. His eyelashes cast a shadow over his face, turned away from David. “The doctor thinks he’s never going to wake up.” It’s not a question, just a statement of fact and David winces at the defeat that rings true in Eggsy’s voice.

“He’s not the most tactful,” David allows, curling his hand around Eggsy’s and coaxing it open so that he can interlink their fingers together. Eggsy lets him, his grasp weak. “Eggsy, he’ll wake up. Trust me, he will.”

“I trust you,” Eggsy whispers. “But he’s been out for nine months, David. What are the odds he’ll wake up now?”

David doesn’t have an answer for that. He feels like he’s in the hospital lobby waiting to hear about how Julia’s doing, the wait eating away at his nerves and his patience. The side of his head had been matted with blood and his sides aching with the bruises that came with being thrown against the floor from the impact of the bomb and in the end, it hadn’t even mattered- Julia had left him like that, waiting and wishing against the strain of reality for her to be alright again. He doesn’t want Eggsy to go through the same thing, sitting on a hard-backed chair, wishing and praying with all his will for the person he loved to be alright and just the tiniest bit alive. He exhales, and says, “I don’t, but I have hope. That’s all we can do now.”

Eggsy’s silent again, before he scoots his chair closer to David’s and lays his head down on his shoulder. The weight of him is solid and firm and David exhales, leaning into him as well. It’s a dire situation, but David can’t help thinking- and hating himself for thinking it- that if they stayed like this forever it wouldn’t exactly be a hardship. Eggsy’s breaths against his shoulder, his forehead pressed against the skin of his neck feels like coming home after a long, exhausting day.

“We didn’t come here to sit at Harry’s bedside,” Eggsy says, his voice stronger now. “We came here to figure out what your stupid boss is doing.”

“Not exactly my boss,” David reminds him. He sighs, thinking of Mike Travers and his wrapped up hand, the mysterious conversation in the office. Finding out Harry is alive has been an unexpected relief, a bonus- but he’s nowhere near close to figuring out what Mike’s planning. “I can’t ask you to leave Harry-”

“We didn’t come here to save Harry, we came here to figure out what your boss is up to,” Eggsy says, matter of fact. “He’s in a coma, and that’s not going to change any time soon.” The exhaustion in his voice, loud and unmistakeable, makes David’s heart sink.

“No,” David says firmly before he’s registering what he’s saying. “You’ll stay here, while I continue to stake out South Glade Mission church. Travers will turn up eventually, I’m sure of it.”

“What? Absolutely not,” Eggsy yelps, immediately sitting back up and lifting his head from David’s shoulder. Almost instantly, David misses the warmth of him, how relaxed and at ease Eggsy had felt against him. Eggsy twists around, staring at him with an incredulous look lighting up his eyes. “I’m going with you.”

“You’re not,” David retorts, gesturing to Harry with a hand. “Look at Harry, Eggsy- you need to be there for him in case he wakes up-”

“Exactly, _look at him_ ,” Eggsy snarls, practically spitting in his fury. David shrinks back slightly, a bit taken aback by the force of his anger. “He’s fucking- he’s fucking dead already, David, just look at him! He’s in a fucking coma, he can’t hear either of us, he’s- I don’t know what the fuck we’re doing here but at least out there I know I’m helping you with something.” His eyes beseech David, a strange sheen to them. “Let me help, David. Please-”

“He’s your Da,” David says softly. The effect of those three words is instantaneous- Eggsy deflates, the fight going out of him in an instant. “Eggsy, darling-”

“Let me help,” Eggsy whispers. The sentence is fragile. Eggsy _looks_ fragile, the emotion in his eyes tremulous as if a single word from David could shatter him to pieces, carve him raw. It’s a kind of power that makes David’s stomach shift, uneasy and frantic. The last time he’d had that sort of power, someone had died for his mistakes.

“You’d be helping me,” David chooses his words carefully, “if you stayed here and kept watch over Harry.”

The set of Eggsy’s mouth is petulant and stubborn, and he shift his gaze away, glaring at the IV drip connected to Harry’s hand. “I don’t want you to be alone,” he tells the IV drip. “What if something happens to you? What if Travers does something?”

The concern is heartwarming; a foreign concept and yet, making David welcome it like an old friend. He grins, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of Eggsy’s mouth, persisting until he feels him relax beneath his lips. “It’s cute of you to be scared for me,” David says, chuckling when Eggsy harrumphs, “but I was in Iraq for three years. I can handle it.”

“And if not?” Eggsy demands, pushing David away so that he can look him in the eyes. There’s a strain of worry in his own, sharp and bordering on panic. “David, if something happens to you-”

“Nothing will,” David promises. Eggsy looks unconvinced, the corner of his lips downturned. “Eggsy, I promise- I’ll do everything I can to come back to you.”

“Harry said he would come back,” Eggsy says, his voice soft and trembling on the edge of something- tears, David thinks with a shock. “And he didn’t. I know you think you’re more than capable and believe me, I do too- but if being a Kingsman agent’s taught me anything, it’s that shit hits us the hardest when we least expect it.” He draws back from David a little, shoving his hand into his jacket pocket and digging around before he lets out a small noise of triumph and takes out a pair of rectangular glasses, neat and way too expensive for either of them to be handling it. The design is sleek as well- a certain level of class David’s never come into contact with.

“A spare I have, I carry it around with me all the time in case mine breaks,” Eggsy says, pressing it into David’s palm. “I’m not an agent anymore, obviously, but force of habit. Put them on- go on.”

David does so, and then swears loudly- there’s all sorts of facilities present. A blueprint of the hospital, an iMessaging feature that’s currently down, a list of weapons that supposedly should be at hand. David blinks, staring at Eggsy. “Holy fuck,” he whispers, to which Eggsy nods, grinning.

“Believe me, I had the same look on my face,” he says, gesturing to the square frames that sit on his own nose. He taps the side of David’s glasses, continuing, “Just- here, tap like this and you’ll be able to have a comms link to me. These are used to contact Merlin during missions but obviously there’s no direct link to Merlin now. I expect hourly updates, you hear me? Miss even one, and I’ll be on your arse like- like-”

“Like I was on yours last Sunday in the car?” David asks, gratified to see Eggsy turn red, but grin wider.

“Exactly,” he confirms. The grin fades, turning to worry. “You’ll be safe, won’t you?”

“Yes,” David says, not knowing if it’s a lie. Even if it is, David would still say it anyway just to see the relief spread across the planes of Eggsy’s face, relaxing his features and making his eyelids droop. Eggsy cups his face with his hand, lip twitching when David turns his head slightly to press a kiss to his palm. “I’ll be safe,” David repeats. “I’ll be safe.”

*

“I thought you said you would be _safe!”_ Eggsy screams from the glasses, his tinny voice almost screeching at an unholy fever pitch as David ducks behind a church pew. A bullet blows into the back of the pew, the heat of it searing David’s back.

“I _know_ ,” David groans, poking his head out of the church pew and immediately ducking again once he sees the secret service officer aim a gun at him and fire. The bullet blows over his head- it’s pretty clear to see that the secret service never put proper aiming skills as a priority in their training. David can aim better than that on a bad day plagued by anxiety.

The day had started out normally enough. It starts like how every single day for the past two weeks has been starting, with Eggsy and David exchanging a kiss at the hotel lobby and Eggsy reminding him about the hourly updates before they go their separate ways. Harry hasn’t woken up at all, and David’s helpless to witness the slow fizzling out of hope in Eggsy’s eyes- what little of it there was in the first place, anyway. David had taken the car to far end of the road opposite the church, settling in to stake out the church and observe absolutely nothing like he has been for the past two weeks. At noon he’d been thinking about calling the whole thing off as a bad job- clearly, he’d gotten some of the detail wrong about Mike Travers being up to something.

“These things take time,” Eggsy had said over the glasses, when he’d dug into his burrito and told Eggsy of his concerns at half past noon. “And maybe they’re gonna strike later. Maybe they realized you were onto them.”

“I was subtle,” David grumbles back. A piece of lettuce falls into his lap and he pops it into his mouth. The burrito is surprisingly good, bought from a corner store selling Indian as well. “At least, I think I was.”

“Not much that’s subtle about going to the same place for a vacation as your boss who’s definitely not going for one,” Eggsy supplies dryly. There’s chewing on his end- spaghetti bolognaise if David’s not mistaken, Eggsy had told him about how that had been the only thing decent in the hospital canteen. “Bonus points if its one no one goes to for a vacation. Who’s heard of going to fucking Kentucky for a holiday?”

The call had ended with David unconvinced, wondering if it had all been in vain. So much for trying to prevent the British government from falling into even greater shambles than it already was in- David had clearly been thinking out of pocket, no matter what Eggsy said. This is David’s area of expertise, making tall stories and mountains out of dust. He’d swallowed, resentful and bitter, and gotten out of his car to throw the burrito wrapper, deciding he’d call it a day and head back to the hospital to join Eggsy in mournful, watchful vigilance over Harry.

He’d chucked the wrapper into the bin when he’d caught sight of them- two tall, burly men in black suits heading into the church, overstepping the police tape and the gravestones. The sight had made David’s heart speed up almost instantly, bile rising up in his throat; it could mean anything, and nothing at all. All the same, it was what he’d been staking out the church for weeks for. Patting his belt to check if he still had his gun with him, he’d then waited a few minutes before heading into the church.

The inside of the church is quite veritably, a disaster- there’s no other way to describe it. Broken pews, seats in smithereens, windows shattered and debris making it look like a hurricane had taken place within the church. Nine months, David thinks, and no one had bothered to clean it up. The two men were in the middle of the church, conversing with a tall, spindly and balding man- the head of the secret service, David realizes. He ducks into the church, keeping his shadow hidden beneath fallen debris and pillars as he’d tip toed into a close enough location to eavesdrop on their conversation. His glasses had buzzed with an incoming call from Eggsy and he had declined it, knowing he’d pay for it later.

“-can’t do anything,” one of the men had been saying, sounding frustrated. “They’re saying his son is visiting him at the hospital.”

“Has he given an identity? We could interrogate the son instead,” the head of the secret service says, his voice low and measured. David clenches his own hand into a fist, trying to stop the shaking that has started up again. He has a vague idea of who the head of the service is talking about but if he’s proven right, he can’t be held accountable for what he’d do to him next.

“We can’t get him alone,” the other man says. “He’s always surrounded by members of the public. He’s never alone, its impossible to get to him.”

“Well, tell me something useful,” the head of the secret service- Stephen, David suddenly remembers wildly- snaps, voice on the edge of a shout. “Did you get me a name, at least?”

There’s a split second of silence, and then a reply- “Eggsy Unwin. And our man- he’s Harry Hart.”

David’s heart skips a beat, sharp and painful. His glasses buzz again and he taps the side of it to decline the call, the pounding of his heart fierce and jackrabbiting. This- hearing his boyfriend’s name fall out of the mouth of a man who had framed him for the murder of his ex- had never been planned or expected. He presses his back more firmly against the pillar, straining his own ears. Eggsy’s safety depended on him now.

“Harry Hart’s the john doe, then,” Stephen says, matter of fact. “Did our systems turn up anything on him?”

“Just a tailor at Saville Row,” the other man confirms. “Joined right out of army-”

“As if anyone would go into fucking tailoring right after fighting in Afghanistan,” Stephen says, his voice dry. “Any luck with the CCTV footage?”

“Nothing,” the other man says. “Security doesn’t know anything.”

“Maybe you haven’t tried all forms of interrogation,” Stephen says shortly, and unease seeps into the bottom of David’s spine, cold and unpleasant. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what Stephen is hinting at. The feeling of being right, that his hunch that the secret service had indeed been given powers to do whatever the hell they desired by Mike Travers had been right, isn’t as satisfactory as it should feel. It is only then that David realizes how much he’d been secretly hoping his own intuition will be proven wrong. David steps even closer to the pillar, and that’s when it all goes to shit. His shoe crunches on a stray piece of rock, the sound like a gunshot in the silent church.

The air drops by a thousand degrees almost instantly, as the sound of guns being drawn out makes David stiffen. He curses his own idiocy, keeping a hand on his own revolver as well. “Who’s there?” Stephen demands, his voice reedy high and sharp. “Show yourself!”

“Maybe a rat or something,” one of the men suggest, uncertain. David holds his own breath against the pillar, heart thumping rapidly. Fine beads of sweat have started forming against the nape of his own neck and his left hand has started trembling imperceptibly, rather like a fine leaf. He clenches it into a fist to stop the shaking.

“No way was it a fucking rat,” Stephen snaps. “Someone’s been eavesdropping on our conversation. It came out from that pillar.”

David’s glasses buzz again and this time, the vibration in the still air of the church seems deafening. He taps the side of it, swallowing roughly when he realizes its Eggsy. Eggsy- _god,_ Eggsy had specifically told him to keep himself out of trouble and what had he done?

“I’m going to count to three,” Stephen orders, his voice a lot closer to the pillar. “When I reach three, my men will start shooting. I suggest you surrender yourself before then.” His voice is coldly furious and yet still somehow even, the danger pronounced in every syllable. This is a man who’d shake your hand and shoot you in the face with the other. The sting of finding out that they’d been the ones to try and frame him for Julia’s murder burns like an insect bite, the memory uncomfortable like a paper cut.

“One-”

David tenses, hand on his gun.

“Two-”

The footsteps echo closer, heavy handed and sure.

“Thr-”

David pulls out his gun, pushing away from the pillar to aim it at the general direction of the men, firing off two bullets. From the corner of his eye, he espies one of the men go down with a shout, clutching his own kneecap in agony. He can’t afford to waste any time in confirming it though, intent as he is on finding cover. He skids onto his knees behind a broken pew, kneeling down behind it and trying not to flinch at the bullets raining down on the back of it.

“Sergeant Budd!” Stephen shouts, the anger finally bursting through his contained words. “What’s the meaning of this?”

He leans around the pew and fires another shot, withdrawing again and grinning in triumph when he hears the other man shout in pain as well, the bullet finding its target. He still has it, after all this time. When his glasses vibrate again, he decides to take the call.

Now, Eggsy screams into his ear, his voice definitely too high for him to still be in the hospital ward. “What the hell happened?” he demands. “You were only supposed to be on lookout!”

“I’ll tell you everything, just- let me handle them first, alright?” David pants. Another bullet whizzes past his ear, the heat of it scorching his cheek and he yelps, scrabbling lower down the back of the pew.

“Not on your own, I’m on my way,” Eggsy snaps, as the sounds of a revving engine and screeching tires reach David’s ears. David blanches, remembering Stephen’s words. The last thing either of them needed was Eggsy being delivered right to Stephen’s doorstep.

“No,” David says sharply. “Eggsy, don’t you dare-” A bullet slams into the back of the pew, the impact of it delivering a crack and David winces, leaning less of his weight against it.

“Hang in there tight, David,” Eggsy says, voice sharp. There’s another sharp screech of tires, and then Eggsy screaming _there’s traffic rules for a reason, wanker!_ before continuing, “I’m ten minutes away.”

_“No,_ Eggsy, wait, listen-” A bullet slams into his glasses, slicing his cheek painfully and he gasps, instinctively ducking his head. The glasses fly off his face, crashing onto the floor in a heap of plastic. Lunging for it, he shoves it into his jacket pocket, ducking his head to avoid another bullet.

“Come out, Sergeant Budd, wherever you are,” Stephen drawls, the words confidently furious. “Being here is an act of treachery, you know. You’re acting against the crown.” His footsteps echo closer, the sounds echoing like a sentence. With each step sounding closer and closer, David’s heart lodges itself higher in his throat. This is not how he wants to go, crouched behind the broken pew of a church that had killed his boyfriend’s father figure.

_Stall him,_ a voice like Eggsy’s whispers in his ear, the glasses a burning weight in his pocket. _Do whatever you can to stall him._

“I could say the same thing about you,” David snaps. His jaw works furiously as he wonders if his next words would be wise before he decides to hell with it and opens his mouth anyway. “Interrogating civilians, going after mere tailors- I could tell Sampson everything. Have you fired.”

The footsteps stop abruptly, just like clockwork. David exhales slowly, hands braced on the floor. His cheek stings badly, blood and sweat making the cut throb away like a living breathing thing wedged inside his flesh. “Let us not be hasty, Sergeant Budd,” Stephen says, his voice uncertain now. “It’s all just confidential business. I’m on orders from the Prime Minister.”

“No confidential business can justify harming innocent civilians,” David retorts. His hands clench on the gun, the tremors gone now. Any moment now, Stephen would start shooting at him again. He has to keep himself alive until Eggsy gets here- because then, he has to focus on keeping Eggsy alive.

“It does if it means the safety of our country,” Stephen says, short and to the point. “You’re young, David, and idealistic-”

“Don’t fucking patronize me,” David snaps. “You forced any remaining youth out of me by framing me for Julia’s murder. Remember that?”

“All water under the bridge,” Stephen drawls. His voice bounces off the walls in a strange echo effect that serves to only heighten the danger rippling off him in waves. “We all live to serve the crown, don’t we?”

“Not at the expense of the safety of innocent lives!” David yells. He squeezes his eyes shut tight as the footsteps stop- any closer, and Stephen would be able to reach out and touch the back of the pew. He hadn’t been able to stall him or prolong his own death. This is how he’s going to die, the taste bitter under his tongue with his last words to the love of his life forgettable like shifting mist. _Sorry, Eggsy,_ he thinks as hard as he can, praying that the words reach Eggsy somehow. His beautiful, brave Eggsy, with eyes like emeralds and pain as deeply etched as the scars on his own skin. _I love you._

“I do apologise that it had to come to this,” Stephen announces from behind the pew. “But I can’t have you reporting back to my old friend Sampson about what I’m doing here.” His gun clicks, the sound deafening inside the church, and David squeezes his eyes shut tighter, his breath coming even more rapidly.

It is then that several things happen at once. There is a loud explosion and Stephen yells, quite clearly thrown off his feet. David’s blown forward with the force of the impact, his entire body crashing into the pillar right in front. Pain explodes along his side, his ribs taking the full brunt of it- David’s never liked the feeling of bruised ribs, how they make each inhale feel raw and full of an ache that is bone deep, yet sharp like knives. There is an odd sort of ringing in his ears, as the stench of sulfur and soot hang heavy in the air; groaning, he curls up on his position in the floor and brings his hand to his head. It comes away covered in blood. The sight is a wholly unpleasant shock to the system- it reminds him of something he can’t put his mind on.

There’s the sound of feed, light and stumbling over the uneven ground- and then a hand on his arm, shaking him. “David, David, baby you’ve got to get up- I’m so sorry, you’ve got to get up, _please_ -”

“Eggsy,” David mumbles through a mouth that feels like its full of cotton. “Eggsy, you can’t be here-”

“David, shut up, he’s gonna be up any minute,” Eggsy whispers frantically. David opens his eyes and there’s Eggsy, beautiful and frightened- blonde hair ruffled and littered with tiny particles of debris and dust, eyes overly bright and gleaming with his hands hovering over David. “David, come on-”

“You’re very pretty,” David tells him, matter of fact.

“You can tell me all about how pretty I am in the car,” Eggsy says. His lips twitch, like he’s trying to smile but he simply can’t. David wants so many things- he wants to be far away from here, with his own kids and with Eggsy sat in front of the sofa watching a terrible movie, he wants Eggsy to be as safe as possible, not saving his useless arse in this beaten down church, he wants to hold Eggsy close and kiss his lips and-

He can’t have any of that, though.

“Okay,” David says agreeably. He lets himself be yanked up, head and ribs throbbing. Eggsy slings his right arm over his own shoulders, and the stretch causes David to inhale sharply, the pain hitting a sharp peak. “Just a bit until we reach the car,” Eggsy says anxiously. His hands are pale, shaking where they’ve gripped David’s arm. David wants to tell him to stop and rest. _He_ wants to stop and rest. “Just a bit, David-”

They stumble over the pile of rocks and debris scattered on the ground, the church even more of a concrete graveyard after the explosion. David tries to twist his head around and look for Stephen- but Eggsy sharply tugs on his arm, keeping him in front. “Don’t look,” he whispers, as he pushes open the door of the church, expertly balancing David with one arm.

When he’s finally bundled up in the car, he glances at Eggsy blearily who’s focused on the road, gaze fixed straight ahead and in a frown that’s far too severe. “You set off the explosion?” he mumbles. His mouth and eyelids feel far too heavy, the blood on his forehead hot and sticky.

“I panicked, I’m so sorry,” Eggsy says in a rush, his voice hoarse. “It’s- he had his gun on you, and I got so scared- I just threw the grenade without thinking-”

“It’s okay,” David says. He reaches for Eggsy’s hands, grasping blindly at thin air until Eggsy lets him grasp onto his left hand. Feeling gratified, he brings it to his mouth, tasting salt and blood. “Thank you. For saving my life.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Eggsy scoffs, derisive and sharp. “If I’d been by earlier- if I’d had my gun with me-”

“I need to tell you something,” David interrupts. He sighs out loud, the pain in his head reaching a sharp crescendo. It’s getting harder and harder to think or get his thoughts in order, his vision turning hazy and his mind all jumbled up into a proper mess. “I need to- Eggsy, I need to tell you something.”

“I’m all ears,” Eggsy says. His voice is full of worry, his grip on his hand tight as he swerves dangerously on the road. “David, love, stay with me.”

“I am,” David breathes. “Just- I’ll close my eyes for a bit, love-”

_“No!”_ Eggsy yelps. His voice is loud with fear and anxiety, making David open his eyes immediately, the haze clearing for a second. “Tell me what you needed to tell me. David, tell me.”

“They want you and Harry,” David says quickly. He has to get it all out, before the black at the edges of his vision rush in. “They’ve figured out Harry’s connection to V day- they want information on it from him. They’re cracking the V day case open and they’re stopping at nothing to get what they need- they’ve gone after the security of the church, already.”

“Jesus,” Eggsy breathes. “Is this why-”

“I needed to tell you but they shot at my glasses,” David pants. It’s getting more and more difficult to breathe and think, but he tries valiantly anyway, releasing Eggsy’s hand to scrabble at his own jacket. “It’s here, I kept it-”

“David, stop- I don’t give a fuck about the glasses,” Eggsy says exasperatedly. He takes a right turn, clipping the corner of a Bugatti and not pausing when the driver sticks his head out to shout profanities. “I’m taking you to the hospital. Fuck- we have to call Merlin now. I can’t fight off a bloody secret service on my own.”

“I’m sorry, Eggsy,” David sighs, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. The cold window pane is a blessing against his cheek which feels hot all of a sudden- his entire body is heating up, the pain just adding to the discomfort. “Sorry my bosses are such- assholes…”

“David? David, stay with me!”

“I remember now,” David mumbles. He’s sure he’s not making sense to Eggsy- in fact, he sounds delirious to himself, even. “I remember- it reminded me of the bombing. I got up and Julia was dead. But this time, I got up and there you were. You’re so beautiful, Eggsy, so brave. You should have let me get shot. I can’t save anyone.”

“David, baby-” Eggsy sounds close to tears, the grip on his hand tight. He doesn’t want Eggsy to drive anymore. He wants Eggsy to stop the car and bundle him close, and let him die in his arms. He doesn’t know how to articulate that to Eggsy, though, he’s far beyond capable of it now. “We’re almost there, darling, we’re almost there-”

“I love you,” David breathes out. He doesn’t hear Eggsy screaming his name, or Eggsy screeching the car to a halt, screaming out of the window for help. He doesn’t feel Eggsy grab his hand on the way to the emergency room, his grip tight and his face stained with tears. He doesn’t hear or feel or see anything at all, the black a comfort and blessing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a little bit short and boring and ends on a cliffhanger so i'm really sorry djfkjkjfkd the next chapter will be from eggsy's pov and likely will be equally short
> 
> some things eggsy does here may seem a lil ooc but its all explained in the next chapter
> 
> as always leave a comment and/or kudos! feel free to drop me an ask on tumblr as well, and thank you for all the comments on my last chapter it made me very happy :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for graphic ptsd mention, kingsman typical violence, anxiety and panic attacks, and asphyxiation

The trip to the hospital room feels like a blur. Eggsy’s underwater, not really seeing or thinking or feeling anything except the crushing weight on his own lungs, making him see spots. The nurse pushes him out of the hospital room, cold and sterile, and his head breaks the surface of the water with a gasp.

“No,” Eggsy chokes, running back to the door and banging his fist on it. Infuriatingly, the door stays shut. “No, no, I’m his-”

Boyfriend is too weak a word. Lover’s too corny. What is he to David? “I love him,” Eggsy tells the shut door hoarsely. “Please, please-”

His face burns with the stain of his tears, flushed red and raw beneath the salt. For a fleeting moment, he considers kicking the door open, rushing in and kneeling by David’s bedside. David’s visage flashes before his eyes again- his slumped form at the passenger’s seat, blood coating the side of his ashen face and his eyes rolling to the back of his head. _None of this would have happened,_ Eggsy thinks savagely at himself, withdrawing his hand from the door, _if you had just used anything but a bomb._ Eggsy had thought he’d known fear- it had been a lie. Listening to David mumble that he should have been shot, his breathing stutter and gasp wetly as Eggsy had done his best to break every single traffic law in the rulebook, racing against time- that had been fear.

Eggsy grips his own hair with his fists, his heart pounding so hard in his throat he knows he might upchuck all over the floor. “Let me see him,” he begs the closed door. “Let me-”

There’s a hand on his elbow, all of a sudden, leading him away. “Sit down,” a voice says softly, and he lets himself be guided on a chair, the metal cold against his back. He doesn’t really care, though- all he can think of is David’s last words, running through his head like an awful mantra. _You should have let me get shot._

He pushes his head into his own hands, gripping tufts of his hair tightly and tugging until pinpricks of pain echo through the skin of his scalp. The pain helps him think clearly, remember what had happened that has led to him sitting uselessly outside the locked hospital door, waiting for his lover to be alright.

There’s something being pushed towards Eggsy- a glass of water, he realises. Unclenching his hands from his head, Eggsy looks up to see a nurse kneeling down in front of him, insistently pushing the water into his hands. “Drink,” she says, a knowing glint in her eye. “It will be good for you.”

Eggsy knows better than to argue; and besides, he has the strange feeling this nurse would probably yell at him for not complying, anyway. Instead, he takes the glass, nods as a thank you, and takes a sip of the water. Its freezing and the liquid settles uncomfortably in his stomach, but the shock it gives clears his head even further. Eggsy sighs out, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

There’s a creak beside him- the nurse is sitting down on the next chair, he realises. “Will you be alright?” the nurse asks softly, and Eggsy abruptly remembers his manners. What has become of him? Harry would absolutely be disappointed.

“Yes, yes, thank you, Miss-” Eggsy looks down at the name badge on her uniform. “Thank you, Miss Tanya.”

Now that Eggsy’s gained a little more control over himself, he’s more aware of where he’s at and who he’s talking to. He knows Tanya, he realises- has talked to her before over Harry’s comatose body, in fact. Spending vigil over Harry took its toll, often, as solitary as it often is. Having no one to talk to except for David’s disembodied voice on the glasses had led him to befriending half the nurses there. As unfriendly as he’d been on the first day at the hospital, he’d like to think he’s more than made up for it in the consequent weeks.

“I’ve seen you at Hart’s bedside,” Tanya says, taking the now empty glass back. “You’re a very loyal son, you know.”

“I’d hope so,” Eggsy says, embarrassed. It’s a trickle of shame every single time he’s referred to as Harry’s son- would Harry think of him as such, after what had went down in the hours before he left for Kentucky? Asking him if he had his father stuffed here and all- Eggsy’s fingers clench into a tight fist, the nails digging in. If David were here, he’d take his hand in his own, slowly uncurling his tight fingers and rubbing his thumb over the nail imprints left on his palm.

David’s not here, though. David’s on a hospital bed, unconscious with a concussion and possibly worse. And the knowledge that it’s all Eggsy’s fault sticks to him and gnaws on him like a leech.

“You’re the talk of the hospital, you know,” Tanya says, grinning slightly. “Everyone wants to know about the mysterious Harry Hart and his even more mysterious son who hardly ever moves from his bedside.”

“Nothing mysterious about H- Dad,” Eggsy says, stumbling over the word slightly. “Just got caught in the Valentine crossfire- you know how it is.”

Tanya’s eyes darken slightly, probably in remembrance of V day. “Yes, I do,” she says, standing up and smoothing her skirt down. “Will you be alright? I have to go, before-”

“Yes, yes,” Eggsy says hastily. “I’m- thank you, for that.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Tanya says, smiling before leaving. Eggsy leans back, closing his eyes and feeling the itch in them signify the lack of sleep, the stress he’s under. He’s unlikely to be free of it anytime soon- it’s going to be a long day.

Unbidden, David’s words pop back into his brain, loud within his skull. _You should have let me get shot._ Exhaling a single shaky breath that seems cacophonous in the empty hospital hallway, Eggsy tugs up his knees onto the hospital hair and rests his forehead on them, trying to wipe his mind blank of everything and anything.

Sometimes, he thinks, loving someone with everything you had- loving someone with the cracks showing like little tears in the pavement that you skip over on the way to school- can be such a curse. His hands bleed with the force of bearing it but god, he won’t give it back for anything in the world.

*

Their fifth date is when everything changes, for the better and for the worse.

Eggsy remembers how the day had started. Waking up with the very important knowledge that David would be taking him out for dinner ringing in his head, he’d dragged Jamal and Ryan out for an impromptu shopping trip, forcing them onto couches and making them evaluate every single outfit he’d tried on in the dressing rooms. The shop attendants had looked at them weirdly, three grown men crowding into every single dressing room together, but had left them to their own devices.

“Mate, you could go naked and he’d still think you look amazing,” Ryan had said, elbowing Jamal and dodging the sneakers Eggsy had lobbed at him. “Come on, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Eggsy had ended up buying absolutely nothing, grudgingly going home instead and trying his level best not to succumb to his panic. With JB looking on he had thrown the entire contents of his wardrobe on his bed, finally settling on a navy silk full sleeved dress shirt and tight trousers that Harry had gotten him once. Harry had tried to drill into him the art of proper fashion, and dressing like you cost an arm and a leg. He had hung onto Harry’s every word as he’d droned on about the importance of picking the right shirt, but had privately thought it was all posh nonsense. Right now, he suspects Harry’s laughing at him from up above.

He’d like to label this chaos as an isolated incident except that it really isn’t- this occurrence repeats itself before every single one of his dates with David. He drives himself into a panic, thinking about which outfit to wear and which cologne to spray, feeling like a right proper tit. It is just, he thinks, that David makes him absolutely wild and unable to think for feeling the pure joy of spending every second by his side, and that he wants- no, _needs_ David to feel the same.

At exactly eight sharp Eggsy had bounded downstairs, nervously flattening his hair and throwing open the door, JB safely in Jamal’s care for the night. Once he does, he stands still and gapes. David looks absolutely gorgeous, clad in a gorgeous dark green blazer and a light blue shirt, trousers accentuating every sharp curve of his legs. His grey fringe flops over his forehead as he beams at Eggsy, and Eggsy brushes it out of his eyes, grinning back widely.

“You look gorgeous,” Eggsy says softly.

“So do you,” David replies, inching his hands around Eggsy’s waist and pulling him in. Eggsy goes willingly, enjoying the feel of David’s strong, muscular arms tight around his back and David’s heart beating strong against his own. “You look simply stunning. I don’t think I’m breathing, actually.”

“Rubbish,” Eggsy laughs, leaning up slightly on tip toe and feeling David’s breaths puff out against his lips, warm and wet. “I can feel you breathing just fine.” Just as David’s about to cover his mouth with his own, blue eyes glittering against the night sky, there’s a sharp wolf whistle from Eggsy’s neighbour and David promptly turns crimson.

“Not the best place for that, I think,” he says ruefully, while Eggsy flashes his neighbour the middle finger. “Shall we, then?”

The restaurant is an Italian joint nestled into the heart of London, with all its patrons dressed to the nines and the interior resembling that of a classy hotel lobby. David had chosen it, claiming that their pasta was the best in London and that Eggsy would be transported to heaven just tasting their wine. True to his words the pasta is heavenly, and they make small talk while feeding each other. Eggsy tells David about what Daisy has been up to in school and David in return tells him about Charlie and Ella making a sculpture made out of macaroni at school. When the cheque comes David whips out his credit card faster than Eggsy can blink, ushering the waiter away and moving his shin out of the way of a well-aimed kick.

“Not fair!” Eggsy hisses, picking up the menu and slapping David lightly on the arm with it. David lets him, his eyes twinkling with mirth. It’s a good look on him, his smile bursting at the seams and his cheeks flushed from wine. “You should have let me pay the bill!”

“You paid for our last dinner,” David points out, grabbing his wrist and rubbing a finger over the bone on the inside of it. Eggsy immediately melts, the skin beneath David’s fingers heating up in response. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Lies,” Eggsy says, but he’s grinning. Their dinner had been pretty heavy, so they decide to take a walk around the streets of London. It’s calmer than normal, only couples and families with adult children out and about. There’s a teenage boy running with his pet Dachshund and David almost keels over in laughter while pointing them out.

“If only JB was that willing to exercise,” Eggsy sighs, as he rests his head on David’s shoulder while David desperately tries to control his giggles. “Do you think he’d be more willing to run if I told him he could have more treats?”

“You could certainly try,” David says, wiping a tear from his cheek. “Wouldn’t look more ridiculous than that Dachshund, honestly.”

“Maybe I’ll take a few videos just for you,” Eggsy says, amused at how funny David finds tiny dogs that do anything within the realm of fitness. At his words David stifles another giggle and the sight is so endearing that Eggsy has to lean up on his toes and press a warm kiss to the side of David’s head.

When they reach Eggsy’s apartment, noses cold from the chilly air, David turns to leave after kissing him deeply on the front step. “I had a lovely night today,” David whispers into his ear, pressing a light kiss to it and smiling as Eggsy tries unsuccessfully to tamp down on a shiver. As they part, David turning to head back home, Eggsy suddenly feels an urge to keep David by his side by any means necessary. He bites his lip, looking at his retreating back for a split second before lurching forward, snagging his arm. “Wait,” Eggsy says breathlessly, as David turns around. “You- you could come in, if you wanted. I mean, I don’t mind.”

David’s mouth falls agape slightly, and instantly Eggsy curses himself. What is he doing? It’s way too forward, he’s going to scare this amazing, gorgeous man off and then where will he be? “It’s alright if you don’t want to-”

“I want to,” David blurts out. Eggsy stares at him, in the cold air with nothing around them except passing cars and the silent houses glaring down on them, and David clears his throat again. “I want to,” he repeats. “Come in, I mean.” His cheeks, which had lost the flush of the wine on the long walk along the streets, turn red again and Eggsy smiles helplessly, his heart feeling incredibly warm and tight. He loves David, so much- he can’t tell him yet, but god does he love this man with eyes like the finest sapphires and a warmth that’s greater than any of the fires Eggsy’s ever been near.

“Aces,” Eggsy says, beaming, and beckons him in.

*

“Mister Hart,” a voice says. Eggsy immediately jerks awake, sitting up straight and nearly bowling over the nurse that had been shaking him awake. The nurse stumbles back, holding her hands up and looking slightly wary of Eggsy. He clears his throat, then, brushing down the front of his clothes before standing up, the embarrassment waking him the rest of the way up.

“Yes, sorry,” Eggsy says, and then realises exactly what he might have been shaken awake for. “Is- is David-”

“We’ve moved him to the unit right next to your father, actually,” the nurse says, brisk and businesslike as she turns on her heels and walks down the hallway. The sound her shoes make echo through the empty corridor, a rhythmic clip-clip-clip as Eggsy scurries after her in an attempt to keep up. “He’s perfectly fine- a mild concussion, and his ribs were giving us a bit of trouble in addition to some contusions. We’d like to keep him for a week, if that’s alright with you.”

“I- yes, that’s alright,” Eggsy breathes, the relief within him expanding and overwhelming all his senses. David’s fine, a bit worse for wear, but he’s _fine_. Eggsy hadn’t realised how purely paralysing the fear had been, that perhaps David wouldn’t come back to him in one piece, that David would break his promise to him and leave him alone, aloft, until right this very moment, when he’d finally gotten the confirmation that the coast is clear. _David’s safe._ he thinks to himself. _It’s alright. He’s coming back to you._

“Here,” the nurse says, holding the door open to the room for him. “Do let me know through a press of that button if there’s anything.”

“Thank you-” Eggsy says, flicking his name down to her badge. _Karen._ “-Karen. Give my thanks to one of your colleagues, will you? She helped me a lot, just now. I was-” he swallows, the memory of it embarrassing now. He rarely ever gets panic attacks anymore, after going to the PTSD support group and carefully scheduled sessions with Kingsman’s therapist, and yet he knows that the eventuality of them had been inevitable. Somehow, he’d expected them to occur again in better circumstances. “I was really- anyway, she helped me a lot.”

“Will do,” Karen says, smiling slightly. “Do you know her name?”

“Tanya,” Eggsy says, frowning when there’s no flicker of recognition in the Karen’s eyes. “She’s one of the nurses who checks in on my father, too.”

“I’ll ask around- could be the nurses I never come into contact with,” she says. “I’ll take my leave, Mr Hart.” The door closes behind the nurse and he stands there for a while, turning over their conversation in his head until he discards it. He must be feeling too paranoid- this is the consequence of hanging around David and Merlin too often.

David. He turns around too fast, nearly tripping on his heels, and almost sprints to David’s bedside. Hooked up to hospital equipment and clad in a hospital gown, he looks small and breakable on the hospital bed. His lashes cast dark shadows on his cheeks, too pale against the white of the hospital sheets and the only sign that he’s still even alive is the slight movement of his chest, barely noticeable unless you were observing with all the force of your sight.

Eggsy hoists himself into the chair beside the bed, rolling it closer so he can hold David’s hand in both his own- the one not connected to an IV drip, that is. He gently lifts it to his mouth, pressing his lips to David’s knuckles which are bruised red and scabbed over with tiny cuts from the debris. David doesn’t shift at the movement, staying still as anything and Eggsy swallows a lump down, trying his level best not to cry. Harry breathes on behind him, the breaths rhythmic and a consoling pattern in the silence.

“David, darling,” Eggsy whispers softly. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough of sleep?” David doesn’t pay any heed to his words, sleeping on undisturbed and calm.

“We’ve found ourselves in a right mess, haven’t we love?” Eggsy continues, rubbing his thumb gently over the scans on David’s knuckles. The dirt in them has been cleaned out, at least, leaving the back of his hand smooth and unblemished save for the scabs. He presses another kiss to the knuckles, holding them to his mouth for a few seconds and inhaling in the scent of soap and the almost acidic smell of medicine before sighing again and lowering his hand. “Truly done for this time. No getting out of this one.”

David still doesn’t stir, doing his best impression of a statue. Eggsy squeezes his eyes shut, the despair within himself clogging his throat, threatening to overwhelm him. He knows what he feels like doing- crumpling into a heap on the ground, sobbing into his hands and begging David to just wake up if only for a little while. He doesn’t do any of these things, though, because David’s counting on him. Not only David- Harry as well.

“You promised me you’d be fine,” Eggsy croaks, his eyes stinging with the threat of tears. “You’re a fucking liar, David Budd.”

Unbidden, the image of David with his head lolling on the headrest of the passenger seat, mumbling that Eggsy should have just shot him in the head runs through his mind like a stop motion horror flick. His face, pale against the blood coating the side of it and against the black of the seat- that had been a grisly sight, and one Eggsy doesn’t think he’ll ever forget anytime soon. “I love you so much, David,” he tells David’s unconscious, limp figure on the bed. “I wish you’d love yourself as much as I do.” It’s a wish of his that’s been on his mind ever since he’d come to terms with the fact that he’s head over arse over heels in love with David, and it’s ridiculous to have expected this wish to be fulfilled with just a few PTSD group sessions. Something as scarring and bone deep as David’s trauma and self-hatred can’t be resolved with just a few group meetings- but god, how he wished it could have been. He physically aches with the amount of love he has for David, so much so that he bleeds with the force of it and if he could, he’d take every single ounce of pain David carries within himself unto his own heart and soul. David’s heart is so good, so wholly pure- Eggsy can’t be the only one to wish that it had never been put through any trauma at all.

“You said you wish I’d shot you,” Eggsy tells him as he breathes on. “That’s not something you should ever wish for. I’ll spend the rest of my life convincing you of that.”

The clock on a far off desk beeps all of a sudden, dragging Eggsy out of his maudlin thoughts- 5 am. Eggsy’s not gonna be able to sleep for a long time, though. Instead, he keeps a tight hold on David’s hand and settles in for what he’s sure will be a long night.

*

“Shall I take your jacket?” Eggsy asks awkwardly, feeling gangly and out of sorts within his own house. David, strangely, looks at ease, walking around the drawing room and inspecting the various butterflies on the wall with a wry look in his eyes.

“No, it’s alright,” he says, draping his jacket over a chair. Beneath the blazer the light blue shirt had been tighter than Eggsy had realised, molded to his pecs and abs in a way that’s making Eggsy swallow harshly, his throat dry all of a sudden. He looks away, scratching at a spot on his elbow furiously and trying to get the heat in his cheeks to simmer down. “Hobby of yours?”

Eggsy turns around to see David looking up at the butterflies, a quizzical, wary look in his eyes. “Oh, god no,” Eggsy laughs, slightly too maniacally. He walks over to David’s side until their arms brush against each other, the contact setting Eggsy’s nerves alight. “Previous occupant. He was a nutter, obviously.”

“Obviously,” David echoes, a glint in his eyes. There’s a twitch in the corner of his lips, like he’s trying to keep himself from laughing. It’s a good look on David, Eggsy thinks, one of humour and mirth. He’d like to keep it there forever, inscribe it into the back of his eyelids like a caveman’s carvings on stone. “It’s certainly an interior choice.”

“What would you have done if it _was_ me mounting dead butterflies on my wall?” Eggsy says, elbowing David’s side. He turns to face David, grinning and leaning his hip against the wall. David angles his body to face him as well, and Eggsy tells himself he’s imagining the darkening in David’s eyes, the once-over he gives him. “Would you have run away scared?”

“Of course not,” David murmurs, inching closer and wrapping his right arm around his waist. With deft fingers he untucks the back of Eggsy’s shirt from his trousers, lifting it up so he can place his fingers splayed wide apart on the skin of his back, warm and soft. The touch feels incandescent, obscene in the low light of the drawing room and Eggsy breathes it in, the pace of his heart rapidly quickening. It is not fair, this man making him feel this weak in the knees with just one movement of his fingers. With his other hand David cups his face, his thumb rubbing over Eggsy’s bottom lip. Eggsy couldn’t look away, even if he tried, and unbidden his tongue darts out, accidentally licking at David’s thumb. This time, he knows he doesn’t mistaken the pupils of David’s eyes turning black with desire, his breaths coming in short and rapid. “I’d never leave without getting what I came here for.”

“Oh?” Eggsy asks, still playful. He wants so many things, he realises- he wants David’s hand to move lower from the small of his back, he wants David’s mouth enclosed over his own, he wants to be wrapped up completely in David until he forgets where he starts and where he ends. “What did you come here for?”

“You,” David says, simply and sincerely, and the look in his eyes is so raw, heartfelt and genuine that Eggsy finds he cannot breathe for a split second.

“Oh,” Eggsy repeats dumbly instead.

“Can I kiss you?” David asks, in a hushed whisper that lands like a canon in the silence of the room.

“You never have to ask,” Eggsy whispers back. And then they’re kissing- wildly, fervently and untethered in the dark living room. They’ve kissed a thousand times before on their dates- made out in abandoned parking lots, in the locked loos of shopping malls and in the back of twenty four hour diners but this feels different, for some reason- everything just feels ten times more sensitive and intense. David’s frantically unbuttoning his shirt, moving his lips to the side of his neck and placing biting little kisses that sting and make their mark.

“David,” Eggsy gasps, tugging on David’s hair. “David, darling- upstairs. My bed-”

David immediately stops, withdrawing. “Are you sure?” He gasps. His shirt is open halfway down, the buttons half undone and giving Eggsy a tantalising peek on what exactly all his bomber leather jackets and shirts have been hiding all this time. His lips are swollen and overly pink, his eyes hooded and arousal and Eggsy thinks that he wouldn’t be able to say no in this moment even if he tried. He knows why David’s asking, though. In all their dates before Eggsy hasn’t ever asked him to come in before, hasn’t ever beckoned him upstairs with fire in his eyes and purpose on his lips.

“Yes,” Eggsy says confidently. He raises his hand, palming the right of David’s cheek and David turns his head slightly, placing a kiss on it. “Are you?”

“You never have to ask,” David echoes his words from earlier, a slight smirk lifting the side of his lips. He’s gorgeous, impossibly and unfairly so, and the magnitude of it makes Eggsy’s head spin. Instead of replying, Eggsy takes two holds of David’s collar that’s flapping open and pulls him in, licking into his mouth and tasting what’s unmistakeably red sauce from their pasta and something that’s just uniquely David.

They make their way up the stairs, not bothering to turn on the light and giggling when one of them misses a step. David trips over the topmost landing, frustrated but smiling helplessly when Eggsy laughs and slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle his giggle. “Find that funny, do you,” he growls, stalking towards Eggsy and forcing him back against the door of the bedroom.

“I do, actually,” Eggsy says, grinning. David’s kissing over his cheek and down his neck again, the stubble doing a lovely job of scratching his skin up and leaving it alight. He pushes David’s shirt off his shoulders, wriggling out of his own too and then shucking both their trousers and underwear off as David does his level best to make him lose his mind, nibbling over his earlobe and licking in the dip between his collarbones. He reaches behind his back for the doorknob of the bedroom, trying to jimmy it open and being unable to stifle a moan when David’s hands decide to head southward, pressing down the front of his trousers and making him thrust up into his grip. “I do a lot- oh, _fuck!”_

The door falls open all of a sudden, and both of them trip over the threshold, falling on the rug. Eggsy lands with a light oof, the back of his head thudding against the rug covering the floor as David falls on top of him, hands splayed out awkwardly and fringe flopping over his eyes. They stare at each other in shock for a few seconds before bursting into laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

“Maybe we are just that bad at this,” Eggsy says incredulously, kissing over every inch of David’s face that he can get. There’s that flush over David’s cheeks again, the one that had disappeared during the walk and then reappeared on the front porch. Eggsy privately thinks that it won’t look that out of place at the Louvre.

“Or we’re just that good at it,” David says, grinning as he boosts himself up on his elbows, looking down at Eggsy. His eyes are full of an emotion Eggsy can’t place a name to, tender with it and it makes Eggsy’s heart ache so badly the pain might make him fall apart at the seams. He smiles back helplessly, unable to contain himself- god, he’s really, _really_ in deep, huh?

“You’re so pretty,” David says softly, balancing on one elbow as he reaches down and brushes a lock of hair from Eggsy’s eyes. Unable to help himself, Eggsy blushes. He can feel the heat spread down to his collarbone and David’s gaze following it, hungry as a hawk, makes him blush even further. “Like- like- like an angel.” He ducks his head to press a kiss to Eggsy’s clavicle then, clearly embarrassed.

“And you’re absolutely gorgeous,” Eggsy whispers, his throat feeling strangely choked up. He clears his throat, and adds, kicking at David’s arse with the back of his heel, “Now get the lube from the drawer, loverboy. I want to have you inside me within the next five minutes flat.”

“Bossy,” David says, grinning, before pressing a final kiss to Eggsy’s shoulder and heading for where Eggsy has gestured to.

They spend the next few minutes learning the map of each other’s bodies, pressing kisses wherever they can. David’s ashamed of his scars, Eggsy realises, and he makes sure to lave each one in his saliva thoroughly, gripping onto David’s hands and feeling him writhe beneath his ministrations. David finds out the spots that make him moan, that make him whimper and make him scream and teases each one with the finesse of a scientist, like he’s testing out each and every single one of his theories on them and won’t leave until he’s proper satisfied. David’s a gentleman- the kind Harry used to keep harping on about except he probably didn’t ever think Eggsy would actually remember what he said in this context. He gives Eggsy his proper attention, makes him feel like a king on the floor of his own bedroom and cherishes Eggsy until his heart’s overflowing with so much love it feels impossible to contain it all within him. It’s on the tip of his tongue, the dreaded three words, when David warms up the lube between his fingers with a sheepish smile adorning his face, when David twists them deep within him while mouthing down the side of his hip and taking his cock in his mouth, when David slides in to the hilt with a shocked look on his face like he can’t believe they’re here, doing what they are.

“Home run, baby,” Eggsy says, laughing when the look of shock turns into one of disgruntlement.

“If you’re still talking shite, I can’t be doing as good of a job as I thought,” David says dryly. He gives a powerful thrust, and grins satisfactorily when the words Eggsy had been about to say are punched out of him, dissolving in a gasp.

“Come on,” Eggsy says, gasping as David fucks himself in deeper, sweet shallow thrusts that carved himself a place within Eggsy. If Eggsy could keep him here forever he would, a tiny piece of the world where the two of them could just exist. “Come on, love-”

“You’re so beautiful,” David groans, taking a hold of Eggsy’s thigh and hitching it higher on his hip. It opens up Eggsy even further, and his cheeks burn at the exposure even while he’s unable to stop the most wanton of sounds from escaping his throat. All dignity has flown out the window, he thinks as he twists David’s locks around his fingers, throws his head back and moans so loud he knows he’ll get complaints tomorrow. He’d feel more shame about it if it all didn’t feel so fucking good.

“Is this good for you?” David asks, gasping. He’s kissing and licking down Eggsy’s shoulder, neck, collarbone, nipples like he can’t help himself, like Eggsy’s been made just for his palate and he’s been starving for so long. The feel of his stubble scraping down Eggsy’s skin, the burn of the rug beneath his back are all tiny pinpricks of pain that serve to create a amalgamation of pleasure that’s bound to imprint itself into his mind forever. “Tell me, Eggsy.”

“Of course it- _oh,_ it is,” Eggsy says, struggling to get the words out when each of David’s thrusts fills him so good, makes him see stars at the back of his eyelids and taste heaven on his tongue. No, not heaven- David, surrounding him and enveloping him like the warmest and yet most obscene of blankets. “It’s- it’s never been like this with- _oh, right there_ \- with anyone else. Just you.” He’s biting over whatever of David’s skin he can find between his lips, wrapping his legs around David’s waist more firmly and relishing in each of the moans David makes. “Darling- just you.” His own voice sounds lust drunk and shock, like he can’t believe what he’s saying. _I love you_ , he thinks _. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone else before you._

David’s thrusting harder and faster into him now, hips pistoning in and out of him and making his back rhythmically rub against the rug of the floor, the burn sparking each of his nerve endings alight. He’s discovering pleasure he didn’t know he could feel, and every inch of his skin feels so fucking sensitive he doesn’t know how he could have ever gone on without feeling _this_. David’s frantically kissing across his cheek, reaching his mouth and Eggsy moans his name into his lips, scratching his nails down David’s back keenly until he’s pretty sure he can feel blood gather in the back of them.

David’s hips are stuttering now, his elbows shaking in exhaustion and the chords in his neck standing out in sharp contrast under Eggsy’s fingers. He’s close too, his heart beating rapidly and his breaths coming in even shorter now. “Follow me,” David whispers into his lips, licking over his teeth. “Eggsy-”

“Anywhere,” Eggsy sighs, and David presses a sob into his lips, and comes.

*

David doesn’t wake the next day either, although he does shift around in his sleep. Puffs of air exit his parted lips and Eggsy has to refrain from shaking his shoulders repeatedly, demanding him to just open his eyes and talk to him for a second. He feels achingly alone in the hospital room, with no one to talk to except the unconscious bodies of both David and Harry, the ticking clock the only sign of the passing of time.

“Tell me what to do,” Eggsy begs David. “I don’t know what to do, David.” David, infuriatingly, sleeps on.

Strangely enough, he experiences no trouble in the form of Mike Travers or his nifty little secret service. No one bothers to contact him or David, except David’s superior- a woman by the name of Anne Swanson, who’d sounded awkward on the phone to Eggsy once she’d realised who, exactly, had picked up.

“It is- strange, to have Sergeant Budd on holiday,” Swanson tells him over the phone. “Just tell him he’ll have to be back in office by next Saturday.”

A trickle of nervousness had slid into his spine by then. He’d spun a gruesome tale of David and a nasty case of stomach flu, and he’d thought it had sounded believable to Swanson. “He will if he’s well enough by then,” Eggsy says into the phone, trying his hardest to sound firm. He’s not sure if he succeeds. “If he isn’t, I’ll inform you as well.”

There’s a silence over the phone, before Swanson says, “in all the years I’d known him, David had never fallen sick.”

Eggsy had laughed, trying to disguise his discomfort. “You know America,” he says. “Gets everyone down. I don’t know how I survived.”

He does know how he survived, though. By being first a coward, and then a complete fucking buffoon. He’s lost count of how many times he’s replayed the moment he’d thrown the lighter at the three men advancing on David crouching behind the pillar, David flying across the corner of the room like a limp rag doll before crashing to a stop behind the pew, his head colliding painfully with a spare piece of debris. David shouldnt even have been alone in the first place, he should have insisted on going with David. He should have done _something_ , any number of things that could have maybe, possibly led to David being awake and healthy instead of out cold on a hospital bed, for who knows how many more hours.

The nurse from before, Tanya, tells him that David should be waking up any minute. “It’s just a waiting game, honey,” she says, as she checks on David’s vitals. She’s missing her name badge today, and at the sight a frisson of paranoia goes down Eggsy’s spine although there is technically, no reason to be. “He’ll be up any second.”

“I hope so,” Eggsy says sincerely, and then nods to her uniform. “Missing your badge?”

“What can I say, I’m forgetful as all hell,” Tanya says, laughing. Eggsy’s not a spy for nothing, though, and notices the tightness around her eyes, the way they dart before answering. His hand drifts up to his face unconsciously before abruptly remembering his resignation from Kingsman- he’s not an agent anymore. Reporting to Merlin isn’t going to improve his situation any further.

“I won’t be by later, it will be my colleague,” Tanya announces, getting ready to leave. “She’s Karen, I believe you’ve met her already.”

Staying in a single room with two unconscious occupants can be a tad bit suffocating for even the most easy going of individuals, and so around noon Eggsy decides to stretch his legs, making his way out of the room. He’s loathe to leave both Harry and David alone for even a second but the constant ticking of the clock and David silent on the bed is getting to him, making his skin itch and his heart thump anxiously. With a kiss to David’s knuckles- less bruised today- he picks his way across the room, shutting the door behind him with a click.

The hospital is significantly more packed today, with crying children and anxious families crowding the waiting room. The crowd of people just makes his skin crawl even further so taking a step back, he makes it down another corridor instead, breathing a sigh of relief when it appears emptier. He walks briskly on and on, his mind both racing and void of any thoughts as he finally enters a corridor that seems completely empty. The chatter of the patients here have completely faded away, leaving the corridor cold and silent. It’s a relief after the buzz that had threatened to do his head in and slowing down, he approaches a vending machine at the far end of the corridor.

Digging his wallet out, he takes out a few coins and chooses the option for a can of coke. The corridor is unnervingly silent, he thinks as he spares a glance up and down the entire expanse of it, before returning his gaze to the can of coke falling within the walls of the machine.

It’s because his gaze is resting on the transparent wall of the machine that he even manages to see the punch coming. Ducking into a low crouch, he hears the fist crash through the glass and kicks out with his legs, smiling triumphantly when his kick hits its mark and there’s a soft grunt.

Making his way back to his feet, he stands up again to inspect the appearance of his opponent who’s- jesus, already back to his feet, snarling and ugly. Eggsy just has enough time to catalogue the fact that the man has a huge scar extending down the side of his face, what looks suspiciously like a burn on the side of his neck and blonde hair shorn close to his scalp before the man’s charging at him again, eyes like daggers. Eggsy dodges out of the way of his fist, taking a hold of his shirt with one hand and punching repeatedly at his stomach with the other.

He’s horribly out of practice, he realises as the tussle goes on for a lot longer than it should, with the man landing more blows than should be possible. There’s a glancing blow to the left of his ribs and he stumbles back, gasping and clutching at his side. His assailant charges at him again and he rolls out of the way, aiming an uppercut at him and getting that blow blocked as well.

“Who- the _fuck_ \- are you?” Eggsy gasps, as each of his blows get blocked. He’s being forced back, he realises, into a corner of the corridor and he knows that if his back hits the wall, that’s it for him. _Hurry up and finish this, Eggsy,_ a voice very much like Merlin’s hisses in his head.

“You are a traitor,” the man hisses, and then grunts when one of Eggsy’s punches find their mark. “A traitor to the state and interfering in matters not of your concern-”

“Nothing stately about spying outside of your state jurisdiction,” Eggsy sneers, twisting around and kicking at the man’s ribs. This time, the man stumbles back even further. _Score,_ Eggsy thinks. “I have a brain too, jackass.”

“Sergeant Budd will be arrested for treason,” the man snarls, and Eggsy’s stomach drops. “Or he’ll die from mysterious circumstances- poison in his IV drip-”

“And what happens,” Eggsy hisses, dropping all pretense and stalking forward, “when I send a recording of you and your boss, the head of the secret service, conspiring to use illegal methods of interrogation in a foreign country?”

His words actually make the man stop in his tracks, his face filling with fear. It gives him all the time he needs to jump up in a high kick and smash his foot into the side of the man’s face, knocking him out cold into the ground. The man collapses like a bag of rocks, falling flat on the ground with blood pooling out of the corner of his lip. Eggsy hunkers down on his knees and then perhaps, belatedly, looks up. No surveillance cameras at all- good. He can’t afford to call Merlin to clean up his mess.

The recording had been a bluff. All he does have a recording of is the supposed head of the secret service David had told him about, threatening David and counting down to his execution right there in the musty floor of the church. It certainly won’t be enough to acquit David if he’s accused of treason for going after the head of the secret service- and he will be, no matter how in the wrong the secret service is in this scenario. That’s how power plays work- anyone who attempts to fight for what’s right and what’s good suffer for it. Eggsy swallows, the blood in his mouth turning bitter at the very thought.

He rummages through the man’s pockets, and emits a frustrated groan when he comes up empty. No wallets, no phone- what had this guy hoped to expect, jumping in on him in the middle of a fucking hospital? What had been his plan? It sends a shiver of unease down his spine, and he stumbles to his feet, staggering away from the man lying still on the floor. This- this isn’t his world. This was never supposed to be his world. This is David Budd’s world and by trying to help, he’s made everything worse.

There’s one last thing he has to do before he can leave. Sending a thank you to the heavens above that he hadn’t been completely stupid when leaving Kingsman in such dramatic fashion, he raises his arm and fired an amnesia dart at the man’s neck.

As he makes his way down the corridor back to the room, his mind starts to race. He opens the door of the room and lets it fall shut behind him. David’s head has shifted, he realises- his right cheek is pressed to the pillow, hand draped over his chest. He looks angelic and fragile in his unconsciousness, as if a single touch could ruin him to pieces. Eggsy lets out a shuddering breath, and digging in his pocket for his phone, fishes it out before opening the contacts list.

He’ll have to call Merlin for help.

*

At first, Eggsy isn’t sure what’s woken him up. He blinks confusedly at the dark in front of him, hand pillowed beneath his head and the alarm clock blinking uncertainly at him. 6 am- under no circumstances should he be awake right now, he’s notorious for not being a morning person at all.

Then the arm laid across his stomach shifts, the fingers twisting into a tight fist, and he realises pretty quickly what has woken him up.

“David?” Eggsy whispers, sitting up carefully while keeping a hold on David’s arm. The room is almost eerily silent, save for the occasional breeze wafting through the open window and the flap of the curtains against the wall. David sniffs in his sleep, face scrunched up in a frown before he takes his arm back from Eggsy’s grasp and curls it towards himself, turning on his side to face away from him. He’s still for a few seconds and Eggsy smiles, smoothing his hand through his hair. They’d wiped down with a cloth before going to sleep, too exhausted to do anything else and even in the dark Eggsy can see the lovebites he’d left on David’s neck and shoulders standing out in sharp contrast.

Eggsy gathers up the blankets he’d kicked away in his sleep, preparing to go back to sleep when it happens again. David grunts again, low and frustrated, and his head snaps back a little, a sharp movement that makes Eggsy halt his own movements.

“David?” Eggsy says, slightly louder. “David, wake up-”

David doesn’t hear him, deep as he is in the throes of his nightmare. He groans, loud and agonised, and his legs kick out agitatedly. His face is screwed up in a map of pain and grief, eyelids squeezed tight and jaw locked so rigidly that Eggsy’s afraid that one tap would cause it to shatter into pieces.

Eggsy throws off the blanket again, going on his haunches and extending a hand towards David. How the hell should he even go about waking David up? He’s had night terrors before too- still has them, as a matter of fact. He knows what he’s like if he’s woken up by someone else in the middle of it. There’s a reason he refuses to keep his gun under his pillow or on the bedside table anymore- he had been this close to taking Roxy’s eye out, that one time. He should probably let David ride it out.

David groans again, before turning sharply onto his back, fists clenched in the blanket. His knuckles are white, almost blending in with the sheets- knuckles that Eggsy had pressed kisses to, just hours ago. “Julia,” he rasps, voice hoarse and deep. “Julia. Julia, please-”

Julia Montague, the dead Secretary of State. Eggsy swallows roughly, pushing his own feelings aside. Now is absolutely not the time to let his own insecurities surface, this is about David. He scoots forward a little more, his hand hovering over David’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” David whispers in his sleep, and the simple word sounds achingly lost. “Julia, I’m sorry-”

“No,” Eggsy whispers out loud, transfixed by the events of the dream as he sees it through David’s eyes lax in sleep. “No, David, don’t apologise-”

“Julia, my fault,” David sobs, and this time a tear slips out of his eyelids that had been pressed tightly together. “All my fault, all my fault, _all my fault_ -”

Eggsy can’t watch this and wait. Every word and groan David’s uttering is like a hit aimed directly for the centre of his soul, a dagger sliding neatly beneath his ribs. To hell with how David might react, he needs to wake him up _now_. He scoots forward even further, and shakes David’s shoulder with his hand. “David, sweetheart, wake up- it’s just a bad dream-”

David doesn’t listen, shaking his head against the pillow. More tears slip out and the sight of them lodges a painful lump in Eggsy’s own throat- any more, and Eggsy himself might become a blubbering mess as well. Something about the sight of David in pain- deep emotional pain at that- hurts Eggsy as well, making him feel punched out and raw. Until he’d met David, the only other person he’d felt that strongly with when he witnessed them hurt had been his own sister. “No,” David moans. “ _No,_ all my fault.”

Eggsy swings a leg over David’s chest, straddling it and gripping both shoulders with his hands. “David, darling, wake up,” he says firmly and loudly, giving David a shake and making sure that each word rings true in the silence of the bedroom. “It’s just a bad dream, love, wake up-”

It happens so fast that Eggsy’s unable to catalogue the sequence of events properly. One second David’s still asleep, scrunching his nose up and shaking his head back and forth in torturous nightmare-stricken sleep, and the next his eyes are open. There’s a split second of both of them staring at each other, David’s eyes blank, before David flips both of them over, his hands closing around Eggsy’s throat.

“David,” Eggsy chokes, fingers grappling around the hands on his throat. David presses him into the pillow, hands tight around his throat in a bruising grip that is definitely going to hurt tomorrow. His hickeys and rug burn rub uncomfortably against the bedsheets, a rough scratch that makes fire erupt along his nerve endings- and not in the fun way, either. His air supply is slowly being cut off, and David’s face hovering over his own is starting to look hazy. “David, it’s me- it’s Eggsy-”

David doesn’t respond, his hands closing down tighter on Eggsy’s throat. Eggsy kicks out his own legs, his panic kicking in. He slaps at David’s arms, trying to break his hold but David doesn’t let up, baring his teeth in a sleep addled snarl.

“David,” Eggsy gasps, black spots blinking in front of his eyes. David’s going to kill him, he thinks with a jolt of shock. He’s going to kill him right here on this bed, after they’d made love for the first time. “David- _snap out of it!”_

Just as quickly as he’d flipped them over, David lets go, practically flying off the bed in his haste to scramble to the furthest corner of the room. He huddles against the wall, hands over his knees and shoulders hunched in an attempt to appear smaller. His eyes appear wide, luminescent and watery in the dark of the bedroom. Eggsy sits back up, gasping and massaging his aching throat with his hand. “David?” He asks tentatively, voice hoarse and soft.

“Stay back,” David says abruptly, and Eggsy holds his own palms up. “I am,” he says, and the words scratch at his own throat, making him cough. “Are you alright?”

“Am I- are _I_ alright?” David exclaims, his eyes full of disbelief. He scrabbles back even further against the wall, breathing heavily. “I- I hurt you, Eggsy. God, I can’t believe-”

Eggsy wants nothing more than to go over there, wrap his arms around David and just hold him. He can’t, however- David looks trapped, anguished as he huddles against the far corner of the room. His throat aches with the memory of David’s hands around it, choking the life out of him bit by bit but it doesn’t bring him panic, or fear of David- it brings him a strange sort of sorrow instead.

“I’m not leaving,” Eggsy says softly.

“You should,” David says, broken and hurting. His voice cracks, and he buries his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking. “You should, you should-”

“No, I’m not,” Eggsy says firmly. He dares to chance it and sliding off the bed, scoots closer to David on his knees until they’re just a feet apart. This close he can see the tears slide through the spaces between his fingers as he cradles his head, splashing onto the the rug. “You can’t make me, either.”

“I hurt you,” David croaks into his hands. He lifts his head, then, and the trails of tears on his face gleam like shining rays piercing Eggsy’s lungs, leaving him breathless. “Eggsy, you can hardly talk. I should have just- this was a bad idea, I should just-”

“Do you regret it?” Eggsy asks, keeping his voice soft. He keeps his hands folded on his lap, sitting back on his haunches and looking at David expectantly. David, in return, looks torn. They’re both clad only in their sweatpants, David’s one having been borrowed from Eggsy, and it makes David look all the more fragile in his state of undress.

“I want to say yes,” David whispers, “so that you’d leave. Because that’s what’s good for you. I hurt everything I touch, Eggsy.”

Eggsy crawls closer, his knees rubbing uncomfortably against the rug until he’s close enough to count the grey specks in David’s eyes. “You didn’t hurt me, David,” he says, taking David’s hands in both his own. Clenching tight and refusing to let go when he can feel David try to withdraw, he places both of David’s hands on his throat, right over the bruises that have already begun to form. His heart’s beating rapidly, not in fear but in anticipation.

David’s staring at him, his fingers shaking as they’re pressed to his throat. The terror in his eyes are palpable and Eggsy swallows, feeling his Adam’s apple bob against David’s fingers spread wide around the expanse of his neck. “I’m not scared of you,” Eggsy says quietly. “I knew what I was doing when I woke you up from your night terror. I have them, too.”

“You should be,” David says hoarsely. His fingers tighten imperceptibly, right on the bruises left by them just minutes before, and Eggsy swallows again. It’s not painful but perhaps, that’s due more to the adrenaline still coursing through Eggsy’s veins, the way David’s fingers resting against his neck offer more of a comfort than a threat. “Eggsy, you’re fucking insane.” _To be with me_ , he doesn’t say, but Eggsy hears it anyway.

“Not insane,” Eggsy says honestly. He places a hand over David’s wrist, the hold light and easily breakable. David lowers his knees, sitting on the floor Indian style and Eggsy clambers over them so he can plop himself right in the middle of David’s lap. Like this, their breaths intermingle, right there in a corner of the bedroom. “I just want to be with you. You’re incredible, David. I wish you’d see that about yourself.”

David’s eyes are watering again, his jaw working. Eggsy uses his other hand to cup his face, thumbing at the tears and wiping them away. At the movement, David chuckles softly, and it makes his eyes light up. Even with a face full of tears, David had the power to appear so casually gorgeous it made Eggsy’s heart hurt. “So you still- want to be with me?” David says uncertainly.

“Most definitely,” Eggsy confirms. David breaks into the most relieved smile, a few more tears escaping, and it makes Eggsy’s heart hurt even more- had there been anyone in David’s life who’d told him no? Put the blame of his own trauma on himself, told him he’s not worth it? David’s scars and struggles made him all the more irresistible and gorgeous for it showed him his courage and if Eggsy could put into words all that he felt for David and the bravery he exhibits every single day, facing the world after all it had done to him, he’d recite them every single morning and night.

“You’re not real,” David whispers. “You’re out of this world. You’re extraordinary. God, Eggsy, I don’t deserve-”

“Yes, you do,” Eggsy says firmly, taking one of the hands still lying on the side of his neck and bringing it up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm. “You deserve everything. And if I have to spend every single day convincing you of this, so be it.”

“I’m not worth it,” David says softly. The achingly raw grief resounds in his voice, searing at Eggsy’s insides. “I’m not worth anything, Eggsy. Trust me.”

“I don’t believe you,” Eggsy whispers. His own eyes have started to water too- each of David’s words, filled with self loathing, flay him raw. “I believe you’re worth- so much, David.”

David tugs him close, pressing his lips to the bruise on his neck and holding it there in an open mouthed kiss. Eggsy feels him shake, minute trembles that reverberate through his body. At the first hot splash of tears against his neck he combs a hand through the hair on the back of his head and presses a kiss on his crown, closing his eyes and breathing in the silence. And there they stay for the rest of the morning, huddling against the wall as David continues to weep into Eggsy’s neck.

*

“I thought you’d left Kingsman,” is Merlin’s dry response, when Eggsy finally gathers the courage to call about an hour after getting accosted by that scarred man by the vending machine, pacing the length of the hospital room.

His words send a frisson of irritation through Eggsy so sharp that he considers cutting the call right there and then. Merlin’s never been the kind to be snide, making cutting remarks that hurt but then again, V day had changed everyone- and walking away from Kingsman is something Eggsy very much doubts is typical. “I could hang up now, Merlin,” he says flatly. “And then you’d never find out that I’m with Harry right now.”

There’s a long, telling silence, spanning five seconds, and then Merlin clears his throat. Guiltily, if one could clear their throat guiltily. Eggsy’s stomach abruptly sinks like a stone at the implications and he has to sit back down on the chair by David’s bedside. “You already knew, didn’t you?” he asks dumbly. “That Harry had been alive, that we’ve been watching over him.”

There’s another split second of silence. “Eggsy,” Merlin finally says, “I’m sorry, but it was protocol-”

“Save it,” Eggsy says tiredly. _You and your fucking protocol,_ he thinks. What happened to the Merlin who forced him to the PTSD support group, who checked on him through concerned calls every time his vitals spiked after a night terror? Had that been protocol too? It sure as hell hadn’t been protocol for him when he’d decided to force Merlin out of his haunt by the computer controls for lunch, when he and Roxy had strong armed Merlin into taking a break and sleeping his exhaustion off in Medical. “So, what, you have people stationed here? Do you know what happened to David, too?”

“A nurse,” Merlin says quietly. “Tanya, you’ve met her already. She’s a contact given to us by the Statesmen, our sister organization stationed in America.”

Of course Tanya had been a spy all along. Eggsy’s intuition had been right after all- just not in the way he’d thought.

“I have a chopper waiting,” Merlin adds. “At Statesmen HQ. At your say so, our people will come over to South Glade Hospital for the transfer.”

“The transfer of only Harry, you mean,” Eggsy cuts in curtly, gripping onto David’s hand and interlocking their fingers together.

“No, Eggsy,” Merlin says, and this time there’s a genuine hint of apology in his tone. “For David as well. You were right, Eggsy- in the wake of V day I became far too similar to Chester King for comfort. I don’t know when I let Kingsman, an organization sworn to protect those in need of it, slip and become a mockery of MI6 but that ends now. I’ll help David, that I promise you.”

“Someone attacked me,” Eggsy blurts out, gripping onto David’s hand tighter. “By the vending machines, it was this huge, scarred dude, and he said they might persecute David for treason. I told him I had a recording of him and his boss discussing illegal interrogation techniques in a foreign state, Merlin, but I was bluffing. Please, you have to- you don’t need to help me, I’ve already left Kingsman, but you have to get Mike Travers to quit his position, somehow.”

“I will,” Merlin says, his tone sure and strong. “It’s time Kingsman decided to pay attention to what, exactly, has been going on in the government of the United Kingdom. Eggsy, it’s alright. It’s going to be okay, I promise. David’s going to be okay.”

“Okay,” Eggsy says quietly. He closes his eyes, breathing in the relief. He should have just called Merlin for help earlier, he thinks. Maybe if he had, David would be healthy and awake, instead of damn near comatose on a bed. “Thank you, Merlin.”

“Don’t thank me for something I should have done from the start,” Merlin says roughly. He hesitates again, and then adds, “About Harry-”

“I still don’t want to hear it,” Eggsy says, a lump forming in his throat again. He cranes his head, looking over at Harry- deep in a coma and still as a statue on the bed, like he has been for the past few days. “You knew how close we were, Merlin. How could you have kept this from me?”

“I-”

“Never mind, I don’t want to hear it,” Eggsy says, feeling raw and stripped to the bone, absolutely exhausted. The weight of the stress of the past few days feels like stones tied to his ankles, dragging him down into an abyss of anxiety and worry and confusion. His nerves have been scraped so thin he knows he’s well close to the breaking point he’d been at right after V-day. “What time will the transfer be taking place?”

“Right now, they’re on route to your location,” Merlin says wryly. “And Eggsy- you didn’t leave Kingsman. No one ever can. You can collect your ring back from me when I see you back here in London, Gawain.”

At the dial tone, Eggsy looks back at his phone and shakes his head. Merlin had probably intended for his last line to come off as comforting. His hand still has a tight grip on David’s and rubbing a thumb over his knuckles, he whispers, “We’re going to save you.”

The door to the room opens, as the sound of a pair of heels clicking against the floor resound throughout the whole room. It’s Tanya, Eggsy realizes as he looks up to see her stride inside, walking over to David’s bedside and checking his vitals. “Hello, Eggsy,” she says, smiling. “Ready for the transfer?”

“Yes,” he says, grinning back. “You know, you could have said something earlier.”

“I was under strict instructions by your mysterious boss,” Tanya says, shrugging. As she busies herself with unplugging the IV drip, shutting the buzzing medical equipment off, Eggsy lets go of David’s hand and ducks his head to check his phone once again. It’s then that he sees the message by Merlin, that promptly causes his spine to turn to ice.

_Tanya will be by later, at 6 pm. Hang tight til then._

Eggsy’s head snaps back up to see Tanya point a gun right at his chest, a sneer on her lips. He doesn’t have time to dodge- he dives off the chair and hits the ground, hearing a gunshot go off and feeling the bullet lodge itself right in his thigh. There’s a hot flash of pain and it nearly blinds all of senses as he chokes, instinctively covering the wound with his hand now slippery with blood. Biting back a scream, he attempts to reach for his phone, cursing at himself for not bringing along any weaponry only to see Tanya’s heels enter his line of sight and step on it, shattering it to pieces. Her foot goes down on his hand next, breaking all the bones within it and it is then that he does scream, the pain causing black spots to cloud his vision, threatening to rush in.

“Who-” Eggsy swallows, finding it really fucking hard to speak all of a sudden. His tongue feels fat and heavy on his mouth, and the black clouding his vision is making it hard for him to see anything at all. He can’t pass out now, though- he has to stay awake, stay awake for David and Harry and-

Tanya kneels down. “The secret service has some questions for you, Gary _Unwin,_ ” she says, her tone grave. Eggsy closes his eyes, then, thinks with all his might, _I’m sorry, David,_ before giving up the fight and letting the black rush in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait! if you were following me on twitter, you'd know I've been going through it lately, hence the delay in an update. apologies if this chapter is not up to standard, I've been struggling with a lot of personal stuff lately. 
> 
> eggsy's the only one kidnapped at the end of the chapter, simply because his disappearance will be explained away to merlin long enough for him to not get suspicious. two comatose patients with their records logged in the system disappearing as well will set off red flags in a way eggsy's won't. i also hope the flashbacks aren't too confusing- its just their fifth date in alternating flashback sequences, which is the first time they sleep together in the biblical and literal sense. if you have more questions, you can always ask me on honkydancer at tumblr, or dm me on insta at filmflorence


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for ptsd and panic attack mention, graphic violence

When David comes to, his head’s pounding fit enough to burst and each of his extremities ache like he’s been running a constant marathon and never stopped. Consciousness comes back to him in waves and for a moment he struggles to get through to the surface, his thoughts muddled up in a ball of confusion. He shifts his hand experimentally, twitching his fingers and when the ache in his head decides to lull for one brief, blessed moment, he attempts to open his eyes.

Someone, he realises, has thankfully closed the blinds. The room is dark, giving his eyes and still aching head a much needed reprieve. He hoists himself up on his elbows, attempting to sit up and staring at the room around him. Tiled walls, a vase of daisies on the bedside table and a large screen on the wall opposite him- this isn’t the South Glade hospital. It’s far too huge, with equipment that looks far too sophisticated to belong to a hospital for the general public. Dividers separate him from the other beds and the strange thing is, he’s the only one in the entire unit. The other beds are all empty, neat and tidy like no one is in them.  
  
David’s heart starts to thump. Had the secret service gotten to him after all? But- no, if they had he wouldn’t be in such a spacious room with shit right out of the matrix or something surrounding him at all sides. Maybe Eggsy would-  
  
_Eggsy._ Eggsy is supposed to be here. His memories come back to him in a flash- Eggsy driving him frantically to the hospital, Eggsy begging him to stay awake, his hand gripping his own tightly as he’d screamed for help. He sits up straighter, panting and craning his neck to look all around him. Where’s Eggsy? He’d expected Eggsy to be by his bedside, waiting, or at least be nearby. Had something happened to Eggsy? The suspicion that he isn’t where he is supposed to be is a yawning chasm by now.  
  
The door to the room opens, and David’s eyes snap to the front. There’s two figures by the entrance, he realises, and he tenses up automatically. “Who’s there? Don’t come any closer-”  
  
One of the figures reaches over and switches the light on, and David flinches, covering his eyes with his hands and blinking rapidly until they get adjusted to the light. “At ease, Sergeant,” Merlin says- _Merlin,_ David realises with a jolt. Merlin, who’s not even on speaking terms with him, who’d argued with Eggsy over bringing David to Kingsman, who’d stated flatly that they couldn’t help David. Merlin shouldn’t be here. _He_ shouldn’t be in close quarters with Merlin.  
  
“What are you doing here?” David manages to croak out against the aching in his head. “I’m not- you’re not supposed to- where’s Eggsy?”  
  
Merlin crooks his fingers, and the woman by his side- tall, blonde and in a white coat, she must be a doctor of some sort- rushes forward and checks his vitals. Confused beyond belief and his panic rising at the very, very noticeable absence of Eggsy, David lets her, feeling how Merlin’s gaze sears into the side of his face. After what seems an age, she straightens up and pronounces him perfectly healthy, his ribs healing up just fine.  
  
“You’ll have to take it easy on them for the next couple of days, it takes some time for broken ribs to stitch back together,” she says, brisk and professional. “You must have a lot of pain in your head, yes?”  
  
Befuddled, David nods, and winces as it adds on more to the aching in his skull.  
  
“Wise not to do that,” she adds, slapping two bottles of pills on the desktop. “Here’s to deal with the pain.” She turns to Merlin, then. “He’s not to be under any sort of strenuous activity.”  
  
“I understand,” Merlin says, and draws out a chair as the doctor leaves, as briskly as she came. It screeches against the tiles, a sharp sound that does nothing to help David’s state of mind. He stiffens further against the headboard of the bed, his right thumb starting to shake again.  
  
“Quite the mess you’ve found yourself in, Sergeant,” Merlin says, his face blank and impassive. David remembers, inexplicably, thinking that he’d cross the street if he ever met Merlin the first time he’d seen him in the conference room. That doesn’t change now. “What’s the last thing you remember?”  
  
“Eggsy pulled me out of the church, and drove me to South Glade hospital,” David says warily. He has nothing with him- no gun, no weapons, no handy glasses. Nothing is stopping Merlin from shooting him in the head right here and right now, and no one would be any the wiser. “I don’t remember anything after that, I think I blacked out. Where’s Harry Hart? Where’s Eggsy?”  
  
“Don’t you want to know where you are?” Merlin asks, arching an eyebrow. He doesn’t wait for a response, continuing, “You’re in the medical wing of Statesman headquarters. Statesman is a sister agency of Kingsman, basically our branch in the states. Whenever there are missions in the states, our agents report to the superiors in Statesmen- Same goes for american agents in London. Harry is completely fine- he’s in a separate room because he needs far more help, in his condition.”  
  
David nods, trying his best not to show how much he truly doesn’t care about what Statesman is. He’s not a rookie at this- Merlin’s skirting the subject, avoiding his question about Eggsy. He casts an eye on the door, half expecting Eggsy to burst through it, glasses askew and hair a mess as it always is, a beam on his lips. “You’re here now,” he’d breathe, plopping himself down by David’s side and grabbing onto his hand. “It’s alright.”  
  
And then Merlin drops a horrible bomb. “I knew about Harry Hart being alive,” Merlin says, shifting himself in his seat slightly- the first sign of nervousness David’s seen since the moment he’d entered through the door. “I- no, let me finish- I’ve known ever since I sent agents to the United States that he’s in South Glade Hospital, in a deep coma. I’d requested Statesman to send a nurse over, take care of Harry in the hospital. They’d sent one of their contacts, a nurse named Tanya Albright.”  
  
“You _knew_ about Harry being alive?” David asks, disbelievingly. He’d known the level of ruthlessness at an espionage agency to be high, but had perhaps underestimated the extent of it. Eggsy had grieved and beaten himself up for nothing, it seems, and the thought of it sends a hot flash of rage through David. “And you didn’t tell Eggsy?”  
  
“There is- protocol-”  
  
“Fuck protocol,” David snaps, and then blinks, shocked at himself. Perhaps his head had been knocked more seriously than he’d thought. Merlin’s looking at him in shock too, eyes wide and eyebrows raised high, and it makes David’s ears turn pink in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I’m not usually like this.”  
  
“It is quite alright,” Merlin says, the corner of his lips lifting slightly in what some might call a smirk. “I’m glad Agent Gawain has someone on his side.”  
  
“I don’t understand why you’re telling me all this,” David says abruptly. “Where’s Eggsy?” He looks around, as if Eggsy might pop out behind one of the cabinets yelling surprise. He almost wishes Eggsy would do that, the ball of unease digging itself deeper and making his right thumb quake even more.  
  
“Tanya Albright is dead,” Merlin says, making David start. “It seems that one of Mike Travis’ secret servicemen followed you and Eggsy all the way to the hospital, took note of Tanya behaving differently from the other nurses. According to the body we recovered she had been tortured for hours before being killed- likely due to her not revealing any information about Kingsman or Statesman.”  
  
David stares at him, blood rushing through his ears at the information. It is suddenly very, very clear, with horrible clarity, the reason for Eggsy’s absence. He needs Merlin to say it though, just for the words to ring in his ears and carve themselves into the lobes of his brain.  
  
“A woman from the secret service took her place,” Merlin states grimly, his eyes deadly serious. “Eggsy believed her to be Tanya. While he was looking over you in South Glade hospital, he was attacked by another secret service man- it seems there is no end to the agents in their employ,” he adds, a slight scowl to his face.  
  
“I wouldn’t know,” David says faintly. His breathing’s coming in short and panicky, the panic within his chest rising to a terrifying crescendo. He doesn’t feel himself speak, his consciousness locked away in a box. “Where’s Eggsy? He’s supposed to be here.”  
  
“Eggsy called me then,” Merlin says, completely ignoring his question. “I knew about the both of you being in the states from the second you two entered the hospital looking for Harry. Tanya’s communications had stopped reaching Ch- my colleague, here at Statesman- but no one thought anything of it, Tanya had always been notoriously bad at reporting back to headquarters. Eggsy asked me for help, and I said I’d get both you and Harry transferred to Statesman, where you’ll be then transported to Kingsman headquarters in London.”  
  
“You’re dodging my question,” David says furiously. “Where the _fuck_ is Eggsy-”  
  
“He’s been taken, David,” Merlin snaps, and that one line is enough to shut David up, his heart completely disappearing from his throat. He stares at Merlin, wide eyed and stunned beyond belief, the words robbing his ability to speak. _Taken,_ an insidious voice whispers in his head like a mantra revolving and revolving around the lobes of his brain. _Taken, taken, taken-_

“By who?” David asks, his voice hoarse. And yet, he already knows the answer- it’s there, deep in the white of Merlin’s knuckles, in the slight resentful tinge to his eyes as he looks to the left of David, not directly at him as if in fear of accidentally setting something off if their eyes did make contact. 

“By the secret service agent posing as Tanya,” Merlin says, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest. The pounding in David’s head, momentarily subdued, has taken on a new force again, making black gather at the edges of his vision. He blinks rapidly, aware of the knowledge that nothing would be more pathetic than blacking out right in the middle of taking to Eggsy’s former boss. “Those under _your_ boss, Mike Travis.”

The resentfulness and lightly hinted at anger in his voice, an undertone all this while, blooms into full force now. Surprisingly enough, David can’t muster the energy to be cowed properly by it- by the whites of Merlin’s eyes, stark with rage and the way his jaw clenches in obvious agitation, a hair’s breath away from knocking out the rest of David’s addled brains. David’s gaze drifts away from Merlin to his own hands, clenched as they are in the blankets. Eggsy, gone. Eggsy, taken, all because he’d done the idiotically dumb thing of trying- in his own self absorbed world, anyway- to right the injustices in the world. Eggsy, missing, his absence from the room glaring like a gaping wound that never lets David take in a full breath, cut clean to the bone with a sharp knife. 

“I didn’t-” David starts to say hoarsely, his throat feeling like sandpaper, and then stops, unsure of how to phrase what he intends to say. His head pounds in tune to his thoughts, a sharp pain that rises and falls with each thought of _Eggsy, Eggsy, Eggsy_ and _gone, gone, gone._ “Have you started-”

“To look for him?” Merlin suggests grimly. “Eggsy may have left us of his own will, but he’s very much a Kingsman until the second he takes his last breath. I have agents searching for him, and rest assured we _will_ find him.” There is a sharpness in his voice that David definitely can’t ignore.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” David says, trying and failing to prevent the sheer exhaustion and pain he feels from seeping into his voice, worming their way into the tiny cracks like cement. “I meant that I want to help you search for Eggsy.” Saying his name, now, sends a pang of agony so sharp it robs him of his ability to think, breathe, function for a split second. What could Eggsy be going through, all because of his inability to leave things well alone? He should have never investigated Mike Travis. He should have never yanked Eggsy into his own issues, his own paranoia. Yet another person he loves, slipping from his fingertips because he’d been unable to protect them. 

“You will not,” Merlin says flatly. The rejection is expected but it still sends David reeling, jerking back in disappointment and dismay. “Eggsy is a Kingsman, but you are not. You’re a civilian, Sergeant David Budd, and as such, you will be sent back once you’ve properly recovered-”

“Eggsy is in this because of _me,”_ David hisses, against the pounding in his own head. He swallows, partly by force to keep the nausea down, before continuing, “I want to be the one to help him out of it.”

“Oh, trust me, I know damn well exactly how much Eggsy is in this mess because of you,” Merlin retorts, his tone still sharp. The words are aimed to cut and they do, David doing his best not to falter and wince. In weaker circumstances he would, inclining his head with a regretful _sir_ uttered, but this time round he won’t. Eggsy needs him to keep his head straight, not to succumb to his own regrets and insecurities and fears. “But unfortunately for the both of us, I can’t continue to keep you here. There’s protocol, and-”

“I’m _sorry,”_ David gasps, the desperation within him rising to a crescendo. He leans forward, his heart racing and beating against his ribs like a frantic sledgehammer, panic swirling in his throat and making him want to upchuck all over the Statesmen medical wing’s clean, pristine floors. “I never wanted to- I never thought it would get to this point, you have to let me help. You have to-”

“Alright, alright- Sergeant, calm down,” Merlin says abruptly, his eyes wide and the features of his face loose with shock. 

“I didn’t- I wanted him _safe,”_ David whispers. Images of cradling Julia’s burnt body flash through his mind. Crawling over debris, reaching her still figure on the ground, her chest strangely concave and barely moving. The thought of Eggsy meeting the same fate is rending through him like a weapon, leaving him raw and bleeding. 

“I know better than anyone how stubborn Eggsy can be,” Merlin says, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “Good agent- one of my best, but stubborn as a brick. He got that from his mentor.” There’s a split second of silence, during which David looks down at his own hands, white against the bedsheet and Merlin’s gaze bored into the side of his skull, before Merlin speaks again. “Look, we can discuss this at another time, alright? I’ll let you get some sleep now, you look like you need it.”

The abrupt farewell is a shock, making David blink in confusion. Merlin’s not wrong about him needing some sleep, the aching in his head reaching dangerously nauseating levels. It’s all not just due to the injuries he’d sustained in the church, he suspects- the knowledge that Eggsy’s somewhere out there, injured or tortured or worse, is a strand of agony that runs on constant through his nerves and brain, making his thoughts sluggish and slow and painful. It’s like he can’t think of anything except getting out and finding Eggsy, the need to have him in his arms a physical ache. “But Eggsy-”

“Eggsy’s not going anywhere and you won’t either if you keep pushing your limits like this,” Merlin says curtly. “Get some sleep, Sergeant. I mean it.”

Merlin’s almost at the door when David, addled on pain and morphine, blurts out, “They don’t realise it, you know. My superiors- they never do.”

Merlin turns around, his face a sea of confusion. “Realise what?”

“When their agents are pushing their limits,” David says, and then somewhat belatedly, adds, “Sir.”

*

The ice skating rink is busy, as is expected on a weekend- kids are shouting and screaming as they attempt to skate on the ice, parents running after them with hassled expressions and furious faces. Charlie and Ella are old hands at skating, having previously done so at their school’s many co-curriculum events, but Daisy’s unaccustomed to the activity as is evident by the apprehension on her face. 

When they reach the locker with all the skates stored in it, Charlie and Ella immediately run for their respective favourite colours- Charlie’s is green, and Ella’s is purple. Daisy hangs back, gripping onto her big brother’s hand with a tight, nervous expression. 

“Hey,” Eggsy says, bending down onto his haunches and fixing Daisy with a gentle look, as David hangs awkwardly by his side and keeps his gaze on Charlie and Ella, who’ve now started arguing on whose skates are bigger and therefore better. “Daisy, it’s alright. I’ll be by the side the whole time.”

“What if I fall?” Daisy demands, her eyes wide. “I don’t wanna skate. I’ll sit at the side.”

“Daisy, darling, it’ll be fun,” Eggsy insists, holding onto Daisy’s hands with both of his own, engulfing them in his grip. “I’ll be watching the whole time, and look- you’ll have Ella, helping you! She’ll make sure you don’t get hurt, yeah?”

“Ella knows how to skate so well,” Daisy says, grumpy. Her tiny face is furrowed in a frown, her lips pouting as she folds her arms across her chest. Petulant is a look Daisy wears often and well- David’s suddenly reminded with startling clarity how she’d kicked his shin the first time they’d met. “She’s aces at it. I’ll look like a stupid idiot next to her.”

“No bad words,” Eggsy says firmly, and then sighs. He opens and then closes his mouth, clearly at a loss. David considers the both of them for a moment, Eggsy trying to be the best brother he can be with Daisy’s certainty crumbling like a house of cards around her. It is unusual to see Daisy this apprehensive and self conscious- an entirely bad look that doesn’t suit her as well as petulance, he decides. He gets down on his knees as well, turning Daisy to face him. “Ella was absolutely horrible when she started skating,” he says firmly, smiling slightly when Daisy’s jaw drops in a look of disbelieving shock. “Fell over so many times she had a huge bruise on her bum.”

It’s actually a lie- Ella had taken to skating like a duck to water, falling once before getting the hang of it so fluidly well her sports teacher had approached him afterwards to ask if he’d consider sending her for training. For Daisy’s peace of mind, though, he’s willing to fib a little. Sometimes he sees so much of Eggsy in Daisy that it’s uncanny- the false bravado, the insecurity, the painfully low self confidence despite the immensely compassionate nature of their soul. 

“Did she really?” Daisy asks softly, very unlike her usual bold self. Eggsy wraps an arm around her shoulders and tugs her close, kissing the top of her head in a show of affection that Daisy would usually scoff at and push away, eyes rolling forcefully- this time, though, she doesn’t, instead letting Eggsy hold her tight. 

“Oh, absolutely,” David says, not missing the way Eggsy’s left eyebrow arched in a show of skepticism. “Couldn’t sit down for a week. But she had fun, that first time- and you will, too. No one’s good on their first try.”

Daisy bites her lip, the apprehension on her face greatly diminished but still evident. “What if people laugh at me?”

“No one’s laughing at you, promise!” David urges, beseeching her with his eyes. “If they do, well-”

“We’ll have a very stern word with them,” Eggsy interjects, his tone completely serious. When David looks at him, though, his eyes are full of mirth, twinkling bright beneath the yellow light of the lockers. He’s unbelievably pretty, David thinks, and it’s almost painful to restrain himself from pulling Eggsy into a kiss right then and there. “Come on, Daisy. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of just a stupid old ice skating rink?”

Instantly, Daisy’s eyes narrow. The old trick of targeting an Unwin’s ego, which works like a charm every single time- god knows David’s used it enough times against Eggsy as well. The apprehension is all gone by now, replaced by a fiery determination that’s both amusing and endearing to witness. David can’t help but ruffle the top of her head playfully, grinning when she bats his hand away and bares her teeth. “Of course I ain’t scared of some stupid rink!” She declares, puffing her chest up. “Come on, we’ll be late for it!” She pushes past them, heading right for the skates coloured a deep blue. 

David gets himself to his feet, stretching his hand out for Eggsy only to find that he’s already bounded up to his feet in one swift hop, gymnastic talent kicking in. Instead, Eggsy curls his hand around his outstretched own, grinning up at him. “Ella falling on her arse that much during her first day?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow at him. “Somehow, I don’t buy it.”

“I was trying to make her feel better,” David protests. “You can’t have expected me to tell her _oh no, Ella was absolutely brilliant on her first day._ I couldn’t have done that to Daisy.” 

“And I appreciate you very, very much for that,” Eggsy says, still grinning that infuriatingly gorgeous grin, and leaning up to press his lips against his cheek. This close he can smell Eggsy’s aftershave, the clean scent of him. “In fact, when we get home today, I’ll show you just how much-”

“Ew!” Charlie shrieks, running up to them with his skates in hand. Ella and Daisy tag behind him, slightly more reserved but no less disgusted. There’s a butterfly clip in his hair that Eggsy had helped place and his nails are painted a lime green colour, also courtesy of Eggsy. “Why do you two have to kiss all the time!”

“Because we’re adults, love,” David says, taking Charlie’s hand and inspecting his skates with a careful eye. “Are you all ready to go?”

Immediately, there’s a cacophony of noise as everyone starts talking over each other- Ella’s waving her hands around and exclaiming about how Charlie had called her skates ugly, Charlie’s hiding behind his leg and blowing raspberries at Ella, and Daisy’s trying to get a word in edgewise about how big her own skates are and she wasn’t able to find one her own size. 

“It was a yes or no question,” David sighs, feeling a headache sneak on as Eggsy consoles Ella with one hand rubbing her back. “Charlie, apologise to your sister now- no, don’t tell me about how it was her fault, just do it.”

At the counter, Eggsy shoves the money for two hours at the clerk before David can fish his own wallet out. “You can treat us all to ice cream instead,” he says at David’s disgruntled look, rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand. The corner of his lips are lifted in a smile that’s light and yet makes the entire rink seem brighter, somehow, more luminous, and David can’t help but snake one hand around his waist, draw him in and press a kiss to his temple. Both Daisy and Charlie make retching noises behind them before giggling and he ignores them, drawing back and smiling so stupidly at Eggsy he’s sure he looks like the biggest fool on earth. 

When the kids are busy skating on the ice, Ella guiding Daisy gently so that she doesn’t fall on her bum, not even once, they stand at the railing and make small talk. David’s had to protect a particularly aggravating client recently and he tells Eggsy all about how the man had insulted his status and upbringing, refused to follow the rules he’d set out and almost gotten them both killed in the process.

“Sounds like a right nightmare,” Eggsy says, grinning slightly. Beneath the light of the skating rink his hair glows, blonde like a halo. The smattering of moles, dotting an alluring path from his jaw to his collarbone calls to David’s lips in a manner that makes him ache, tearing his gaze away with a willpower that almost feels inhuman. 

“It was,” David says instead, linking their hands together on the railing, fingers threaded through. On the skating rink, he sees Charlie turn around and flip his sister off, before crashing into another boy and causing both of them to fall on the ice- rather painfully, from the look of it. Ella and Daisy’s laughter reach them from across the rink, high and contagious. 

“Wanna know what else is a right nightmare?” Eggsy asks. His tone is light as he rubs a thumb over the back of David’s hand, concentric circles that feel like a balm, soothing and a comfort. It’s hard to focus on anything when he’s with Eggsy like this, the two of them strangely distant from the rest of the world in their own bubble film wrapped space. 

“What else?” David asks, moving closer so that his own arm brushes that of Eggsy’s. This close, Eggsy’s aftershave fills his senses. Heaven, he thinks, can’t get any better than this. 

Eggsy turns to him, and David’s hand falls off the railing in shock. Eggsy’s not smiling anymore- his beautiful green eyes are stained with tears, overflowing and spilling down his cheeks in streaks that scar and wound. His lips are bloodied and bruised, the corner of them marked red and there’s a spreading wound on his chest, blooming wider and wider. 

“Eggsy,” David croaks out, stretching a hand towards him. He looks back at the skating rink and with a more alarming jolt, realizes its empty- no Daisy, no Charlie, no Ella. Just him and Eggsy, alone in the vast skating rink with nothing more. Their own space, separate from everyone else. “Eggsy, you’re-”

“You did this to me,” Eggsy whispers. There’s no venom in his voice, just fear- and it stabs at David, making him bleed. “You hurt me. I’m dying, David.”

“Eggsy,” David whispers, trying to reach for Eggsy again. Eggsy bats his hand away, stumbling back, the stain on his shirt spreading wider. “Eggsy, no- we have to get help-” He turns towards the counter desperately, ready to yell for help- only to realise that the counters are empty as well. 

“No one’s going to come,” Eggsy says, in a tone raw with fear and grief. “I’ll die with your mistakes on my head.”

“No,” David whispers, again, as Eggsy stumbles back even further. He rushes forward, gathering Eggsy into his arms. Eggsy’s skin is cold to the touch, freezing like a block of ice. “Eggsy, it’s okay- I’ll get you help, I just-”

“No one’s going to come,” Eggsy repeats. He says it like a mantra, like he’s reading it off a script. “No one’s going to come, David. I’m going to die here, alone, and it is going to be your fault. Why did you bring me into this, David?”

“I just wanted- I was trying to do the right thing,” David whispers, his heart pounding against his throat in a rhythm that feels like its going to break beneath the weight of his anguish. “I never wanted to bring you into this, I wanted-”

“It doesn’t matter what you wanted,” Eggsy says. He draws back, still within the protective circle of David’s arms, blood running freely down his chin now. There’s a bloodied smile on his lips, soulless and transparent. It makes David choke, the stench of blood in the air thick and unbreachable. “What matters is what you’ve done. And what you’ve done, David Budd, is repeatedly kill the ones you love.”

  
“No-”

  
Eggsy explodes, a mess of flesh and blood and grey matter sticking to David’s skin and clothes and mouth. With Eggsy’s life on his tongue David screams, loud and horrific and ringing with grief-

  
-and he wakes up in the silence of the hospital room, cold and dark. 

  
*

Statesmen HQ is vast, never ending clean hallways and conference rooms on top of more conference rooms. Their agents, in direct contrast to Kingsman agents, come to work dressed in combinations of double denim that work for some and look ridiculous on others. The first time David had seen one of the agents had been about two days after he’d woken up in the hospital, with Merlin giving him a tour of the headquarters. 

“Not a fan of the double denim, are you?” Merlin says dryly. “Trust me, I’m not either.”

Each of their agents, Merlin tells David, has the codename of an alcoholic beverage. The head of Statesmen is a genial man in his sixties by the name of Champagne, who claps David on the back and tells him that the British prime minister is a massive dick. Their version of Merlin- a calm woman with dark skin and hair shorn off at the shoulders- is called Ginger Ale. There’s another, a tall bulky chap who’s suspicious of David for all of ten seconds before cracking jokes about the state of his head after the knock he’d suffered, called Tequila. 

“Just two?” David had asked, confused. He’d been given a spare suit to wear, perfectly tailored to his measurements- David had deliberated, and then decided not to ask Merlin on how exactly he’d gotten his measurements. “Where are the rest?”

Merlin shrugs. “Various missions. Absinthe is in Iraq, Vodka is co-ordinating with one of my own agents in Sheffield.” The surprise David had felt upon getting an honest answer must have shown on his face, for after that Merlin says dryly, “I’m not scared about you blabbing to anyone else. Eggsy is- mostly- a good judge of character.”

It feels like a judgement that comes a little too late. The aching in his head and ribs decreases over time, but not in his heart. Eggsy’s absence is felt keenly like a stab wound, sharp and unmistakeable. It’s felt when he wakes up alone in the mornings, when he passes by the exact same white corridor for the tenth time in a row, when he lies down on the bed in the room he’s given and hums Tame Impala. It’s felt when he thinks of something funny and turns to tell Eggsy, only to find the air behind him empty, no hint of a cheeky smirk or a bright laugh. It’s felt when he accompanies Merlin to the garage one day, the pit of unease in his stomach growing as he realises exactly how much power unsanctioned agencies have in this fucked up, fucked up world, and reaches for Eggsy’s hand, a comfort in the deepening anxiety only to find him gone. 

With each day that passes, the gaping wound Eggsy’s left behind grows, carved wider and wider with each second by a deepening well of guilt. _If only_ , David finds himself thinking for a minimum of ten times per day. If only he hadn’t decided to poke into Mike Travis’ affairs because of a hurt ego at having a case taken away from him. If only he hadn’t asked Eggsy for help. If only he’d chosen not to pursue those men in the church, getting hurt and leaving Eggsy vulnerable. A series of what ifs that pile up more and more, a mountain of trauma and regret that keeps him awake at night, that invites nightmares to twist his own thinking up when his eyes finally do fall shut. 

Merlin, curiously enough, seeks his help in finding Eggsy after their argument in the medical wing. It must have been a change of heart after seeing David’s descent into panic, or perhaps the other agents had talked him into it- either way, David isn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. After getting discharged from the hospital wing of Statesmen HQ he’s taken to a sleek conference room with broad wooden chairs and alcohol of every size and brand adorning the tables at the side, grilled on every single aspect on his encounter in the church and his account of Mike Travis. Ginger Ale sits in on these meetings with a clipboard and a severe look on her face as she occasionally takes down notes, Merlin calmly asking the questions. David repeats himself hoarse every day for a week, parroting what he knows about the men in the church and the secret service.

Their first meeting, Merlin hands David a pair of broken and twisted glasses. David takes them with a throat that’s sore from the lump wedged in it, turning the melted and broken plastic over and over in his hands. “Eggsy might not have told you,” Merlin says gently, as David had tried desperately not to let the tears welling in his eyes fall on the glasses, “but Kingsman issued eyewear have a recording function in them that can only be manually switched off. Eggsy had left the function on, so we’ve managed to get the entire recording of your colleagues admitting to attacking innocent men for intel. You’re free to do with that what you will.”

Eggsy, saving his arse yet again. It makes David want to scream, bang his head against the wall and do something, anything to change the fact that Eggsy’s missing. The truth of it is that without Eggsy, he can’t bring himself to care about there being evidence to bring them up on charges. What use was it, without Eggsy in his world?

“Are there any leads?” David dares to ask one day, about a week into the interrogations. At his query, Merlin pauses while writing something down on his clipboard before sighing, slumping down in the chair. Ginger has her head bent over the clipboard, but her pen is unmoving- it’s clear as day that she’s intent on Merlin’s response as well. 

“My team is looking into it,” he says. “But there’s none. We can’t tell who’s the leak from Statesmen HQ-” here he casts a baleful look at Ginger, who remains unperturbed, “-and there’s no trace of the imposter who took Tanya’s place on records, at all. We’ve run facial recognition software on her, and there’s nothing. No trace of the man Eggsy had fought in the hospital corridor either.”

Up until now, there had been a tiny glimmer of hope- that perhaps Merlin is close to uncovering Eggsy’s location, that there are hints pointing to Eggsy being alive and in one piece. David doesn’t eat that day, his stomach churning as he opts to take a walk around the sprawling buildings of the headquarters. Unlike Kingsman, Statesmen HQ doesn’t have much in the way of grounds or lawns- it is very much an enclosed space, most of their vastness found in the building itself disguised as a factory for manufacturing beer. David doesn’t really pay attention to where his feet takes him until he comes to a stop. He looks up to see the armory- a magnificent space housing what has got to be more than a hundred fighter planes, machinery, tanks and some contraption David is pretty damn sure the US government would shit if they got their hands on it. 

“You have a different look than Eggsy’s, when he got his first look at our own armory,” Merlin says from beside him, and David jumps about a foot in the air. He hadn’t even heard him approach. “Eggsy had been full of awe, Harry had said. You don’t look very impressed by all of this.”

“It’s very awe inspiring,” David says dryly, waving a hand at the planes and tanks. “You don’t just get to see fifty fighter planes all in the same place everyday, you know.” He wraps his arms around himself, staring at the planes below as two midget sized techies scurry to one of the tanks, opening the back hood of it. 

“I’m sensing a _but_ ,” Merlin replies, voice even. David looks at him, then, and finds that Merlin’s gaze is on the planes as well, the expression on his face unreadable. A stone wall as always, David thinks- how did Eggsy even figure out what to say around this man? David is constantly under the impression that he’s one second away from getting his arse kicked to the high heavens- one second away from crossing the line around him.

With this in mind, David should have perhaps shut up. Not said his piece, or his opinion on agencies as a whole- but he finds himself working on autopilot, his mouth opening of its own accord. “It is just that- this is too much power. How do you know you can trust the person at the top?”

“You don’t trust easily,” Merlin says. 

“That is nae an answer,” David says furiously, and then rubs the back of his neck, agitated. “Sorry, I don’t normally-” His voice tapers off in silence, unsure of what he’s apologizing for.

Situations like these, Eggsy would fill the silence- an awkward ramble, perhaps, or a furious retort. His Eggsy, always larger than life and taking more than his fair share of the space in it. His heart aches wildly, terribly at Eggsy’s absence- like it has been doing this past week, except the loss feels like a carved out hole this time, wide and painful.

“Eggsy doesn’t trust easily, either,” Merlin adds. When David turns to look at him again the corner of his lips are lifted in memory, almost a smile. “I can see why you two found each other.”

“Hilarious,” David deadpans, turning back to the armoury. They stand in companiable silence for a while- or as companiable as it can be with David very aware of the fact that Merlin had refused to answer his question- before David dares to ask the question that has been sitting on his tongue ever since Merlin had admitted in the conference room that there have been no leads. “Do you think Eggsy’s still alive?”

“Oh, I definitely think so,” Merlin confirms, his tone confident. “Eggsy’s a tough bugger. Very little can lay him out. He’ll be a little worse for wear, but he’ll be fine, as will you.” He sighs, world weary as if this entire investigation has been wearing him down, before adding, “Something has been bugging me about his kidnapping. You know, they could have easily taken you and Harry too.”

“They should have,” David mutters sullenly, clenching his fist. He’d give anything to be in Eggsy’s place, now- have Eggsy be safe and sound instead of him, ensconced within the four walls of the headquarters of Statesmen. It should have been him in the grasp of the Secret Service, instead of Eggsy who’d paid the price of involving himself in what had been solely David’s to handle.

“No- David, you’re not listening to me,” Merlin says sharply, and it’s the severity of his tone that causes David to pause, turn around again. This time, Merlin’s gaze is dark as he looks back at him, the set of his jaw stubborn. “They could have gotten you and Harry too, you know. Killed the two of you along with Eggsy and dumped your bodies somewhere. Covered up your deaths-”

“Sampson would have never stood for that,” David argues, heart thumping. Hearing Merlin lay it out sends a different, sharper fear coursing through him, one that makes his blood pump in his ears, drowning out everything else- that this could have happened to Eggsy. “Sampson hates Travis, she would have suspected something.”

“Too much work for Travis,” Merlin confirms, a satisfied glint in his eye. “Want to know what I think?” The look in his eyes lets David know that he shouldn’t, but he nods anyway.

“I think Eggsy’s going to be used as leverage against you,” Merlin says, matter-of-fact. “Mike Travis knows how much he means to you- first because of work, and second because of Tanya. He knows how to get you to stop investigating him and his actions with the V-day case. On one hand he has Eggsy, who can be tortured into giving up the details of what went down in V-day. And on the other he has Sergeant David Budd’s lover, Achilles’ heel, who’ll help him get rid of the thorn that’s been stuck in his side ever since three of his subordinates went down in an abandoned church in Kentucky.” 

“That doesn’t explain Harry Hart,” David points out. Harry, who’s still out in a coma in the hospital wing of Statesmen, to be shipped back to Kingsman along with them if- no, once they find Eggsy. “They could have killed Harry, or taken him too.”

“What use is Harry to them?” Merlin laughs bitterly, and this time there’s a hint of pain ringing in the sound. His hand grips his own elbow, tight as the fingers dig in. David recognizes the look in his eyes all too well- it’s the same that he sees in the mirror, these days. “He’s in a fucking coma. He can’t even help himself.”

Merlin’s theory of Eggsy being used as leverage against him had sounded, initially, like poppycock. David had never been talkative at work, barely mentioning Eggsy to anyone but Sampson when he’d requested for leave. He’d had no friends at work- there had been the occasional meet up with the guys from the police force but he liked to keep those meetings few and far between, well aware of the pain from that long, horrible day dealing with a bomb strapped to his chest like a repeated ache in his limbs. David had doubted that anyone could have guessed how much Eggsy had meant to him, genuinely- sure, it was true that Eggsy had stayed by his side in the hospital in South Glade, but Eggsy was hardly an open book himself. He was well capable of keeping his cards locked tight to his chest. David hated to think about Eggsy being used as leverage against him- reduced to a fucking ransom note- because it then meant that Eggsy was being kept alive. And that had been a sliver of hope that David knew he couldn’t tend to like a well lit fire because eventually, it would come crashing down when the reverse was inevitably proven true.

As with all things these days, though, yet again David gets proven wrong. The call comes on the third day of the second week at Statesmen, in the midst of David keeping Merlin company in the massive control room of the Statesmen headquarters. Merlin had agreed to bring him there for a change in pace, in return for David staying out of his way and keeping silent the entire time. As Merlin tinkers away on the massive screen, eyes glued to scanning CCTV footage for the barest hint of whoever had been posing as Tanya Albright, David’s phone rings. 

“I thought you kept it on silent,” Merlin says sternly, eyes still fixed on the screen.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, I’ll head out-”

“Take it here, it’s fine,” Merlin replies, hand flying over his keyboard. David picks the call, too distracted to look at the ID. “Now’s not the time, whoever this is,” he says tersely into the phone.

“You’ll be able to find the time, I promise you,” Stephen says into the phone, and David jumps up from the chair, heart now racing a mile a minute. Merlin turns around, expression switching from confusion to alarm as David pulls away the phone to record the call, before placing it on speaker. “Hello, Sergeant Budd.”

“Stephen,” David exhales, clenching the phone so tight he’s sure it will leave marks on his palms. _I will kill you,_ he thinks but doesn’t say. _I will put a bullet between your eyes and spit on your corpse._

“I’ll cut to the chase,” Stephen says gruffly. Merlin’s frantically working the keyboard, trying to get a grip on his address. He glances up at and David, and mouths, “Calm.” Of course David will stay calm, Stephen’s the only link he has to Eggsy. “We have Gary Unwin. Come to South Glade Mission Church in 72 hours starting from now. You should remember it well enough, you killed two of my colleagues in it.”

David closes his eyes, remembering. The men shooting at the altar he’d been crouching behind, the glasses flying off his face, the sweltering heat of the bomb and Eggsy’s face floating over his own, beautiful and panicked. That had been one of the last glimpses he’d got of Eggsy, although he hadn’t known it at the time. His hatred for the man speaking through the phone grows stronger, intense and overpowering. “I do,” he says. “If you hurt even one hair-”

“You are in no position to negotiate, Sergeant,” Stephen retorts, curt and arrogant. “You’re engaging in treason against the state, along with Gary Unwin and Harry Hart. I could put a bullet between his eyes and end this story, right here.”

“Don’t touch him. Don’t- he’s innocent,” David breathes, his lungs suddenly feeling three sizes too small. Images of Eggsy tied to a chair, green eyes unseeing and battered body laid out in too gruesome a state for anyone to tolerate flash before his eyes like a nightmare, a living breathing one. “He’s just a tailor, I swear he isn’t-”

“A tailor who has access to grenades,” Stephen drawls voice skeptical. From the control desk, Merlin coughs- soft enough that it won’t get caught on the speaker. David looks up to see a satellite image of a warehouse, decrepit and run down. Merlin meets his eyes then, full of smug intent. “Do not treat me like an idiot, Budd. You’ve seen what I can do when crossed.”

“You’re out of line,” David says, making sure his voice trembles on the side of terrified and anxious, and doesn’t betray the triumph and relief he feels. A fucking location- after all these days, he can almost taste having Eggsy back in his arms again. “Is this how the state operates? Kidnapping innocent men and threatening those under their employ?”

“It’s Mike Travis who’s the prime minister now, not Julia Montague,” Stephen snaps. “This is how we’ll continue to operate, whether you feel comfortable with it or not. Seventy two hours, Sergeant.” The line clicks dead, and David lowers the phone, staring at the satellite image on the screen. 

“We’ve got him,” Merlin says shakily, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’ll get Tequila-”

“What? Absolutely not,” David says, frowning. “I’m going. I need to- this is my fault, I need to get him out myself.”

“David, you’re not a Kingsman,” Merlin says exasperatedly, pushing away from the control desk. He makes for the door, David on his heels. “I cannot sanction you for missions, you’re a civilian-”

“I’m anything but a civilian,” David protests, and when Merlin makes no move to stop, his stride confident and sure, he continues, his voice growing more and more desperate, “Merlin, please- I need to do this. I brought him into this, I need to- what if it was Harry?”

It had been a hunch, but David’s proven correct when Merlin abruptly pauses before turning right on his heel, a snarl twisting his features. David a few weeks ago would have been appropriately terrified by his visage, backing down with his tail between his legs. David now has not a lick of care for his own welfare left in his being anymore, everything replaced by the thought of getting Eggsy to safety. “Don’t,” Merlin hisses, “even _mention_ -”

“I’m not a Kingsman,” David says quietly, unflinching in the face of Merlin’s rage. “But I love Eggsy. And I’m going out there, whether you approve of it or not.”

For a split second, both of them stare at each other, Merlin in consternation and David eerily calm and firm in his decision. Then Merlin sighs, the movement ageing him a few decades and causing all the fight to leave his body. “You and Eggsy really were made for each other,” he mutters, yet again scrubbing a hand over his face. “Come on, then. I’m not sending you out there unarmed.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait- i had to split this chapter up into two parts so the next one's coming in a week! the formatting on this is slightly weird, and i'll go back and try and fix it if i have the time. as always, check my tumblr which is himbotaron for any updates, or shoot me an ask for any questions


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for violence, ptsd, night terrors

The warehouse is located at a deserted, remote area of Kentucky- about a few streets away from South Glade, surrounded by nothing but old, abandoned houses and dead trees, burnt brown by the summer. It’s a collection of warehouses, actually, as Ginger informs both David and Agent Tequila via their glasses. 

“Very well protected as well,” Ginger informs them during their briefing, swiping through her clipboard to show the different exits of the warehouses. “There are guards stationed everywhere, at each entry. I’d say enter through the front- their back entrance is heavily guarded, the front not as much so.”

“Fewer guards, then,” David says, hopefully, and then his heart sinks when Ginger doesn’t agree with him, focusing her gaze perhaps too intensely on the slides up on the screen. “Not exactly, no,” Ginger replies. “Just by one or two. Any difference it does make is negligible, actually- so it’s up to you if you want to enter through the back or front. And Tequila, of course,” she adds, nodding towards Tequila who shakes his head, arms up in a slightly placating gesture. 

“Not my party, remember?” Tequila says. “Not my rules.” He’s grinning as he says so, a knowing tint to his lips that makes David look away, feeling horribly seen. He doesn’t know how much of his story Merlin’s told everyone here at Statesman HQ, but he knows he’d prefer anonymity- just like he had back at the Royal department of security services. 

There are three warehouses connected by corridors and doorways, Ginger tells them, crumbling but probably protected with guards as well. “I can’t get a read on what’s inside the houses,” she says apologetically, “but I’d wager a guess that each of these tunnels and corridors are well guarded as well.”

“Of course they are,” David mutters, staring at the still image of the warehouse projected on the wall. “You think two of us are gonna get through this alive?”

“With the gadgets Merlin and I will arm you with? Obviously,” Ginger says, looking affronted at the very idea of David even having to question the possibility. Earlier, Merlin had already given him a bulletproof suit to wear, yet again perfectly tailored to his measurements. David had still had his reservations, though- a bulletproof suit did not guarantee success for any mission of this undertaking. “I doubt very much that these are skilled men they’ve got protecting the place, if they let their location be this easily guessed.”

In the large truck headed for South Glade, where the warehouse is, David is finally able to lay his eyes on these gadgets that Ginger has so much faith in. It is then that he understands why she had spoken with such confidence at them getting out of the warehouse with Eggsy safe and intact. About halfway down the ride Merlin pops out of the driver’s area and gestures for David to follow him. Bemused, David turns to Tequila who only gestures him forward, tinkering away on his phone with his other hand. 

Merlin leads him to the back of the truck, where he opens the door to another compartment of the vehicle, causing David to gasp. It is quite simply a museum of hi-tech advanced gadgets and military equipment- rifles of every size and shape, knives and daggers almost styled artistically in a way that speaks to old money, bullet cartridges and many more. Amongst other things, there is a watch that can shoot amnesiac darts and remotely hack anything electronic within a fifty mile radius- “Works like a charm on biometric systems, too,” Merlin says, something hooded in his eyes that David couldn’t place a name to- a pair of Oxford shoes with a poisoned blade hidden in the heel, a bulletproof umbrella that can fire off bullets as well as a lighter also serving as a grenade which David remembers with a jolt seeing at Eggsy’s bedside table. 

“I’d found it weird,” David tells Merlin, picking up the lighter and turning it over in his fingers. “Considering Eggsy doesn’t smoke at all.” 

“One of my best, I keep telling people,” Merlin says sardonically, looking unsurprised. “He takes after Harry a lot like that. Hiding in plain sight, a fair fucking show off.” He picks up one of the rectangular glasses on the board, turning it over with his fingers before handing it to David. “This is yours,” he says, the expression on his face somber. “You’ll be using this to communicate with me and with Tequila. For the love of all that is holy, please do not lose it or break it. One of my other agents- Lancelot- brings back every single piece, but Eggsy breaks every single one he ever receives.”

David takes the glasses, putting it on his own face and blinking, still slightly stunned by the user interface that pops up on the lens the minute he puts it on. A week or so of using the old glasses that had gotten mangled in the explosion, and he still can’t quite get used to how advanced and futuristic the glasses seem. “If the UK government ever got their hands on this-”

“They won’t,” Merlin says, confident and dangerous. “Will they, Sergeant?” When David looks back at him, his eyes are narrowed in a gaze that’s striking and perilous, making David feel like there’s someone holding a knife at his back, just waiting to strike. 

“Of course not,” David says instead, grabbing three lighters and stuffing it in the inner pocket of his jacket. “I’m not insane. The Tories have never done anything for me, anyway.” 

Like Ginger had said, the entrance to the warehouses is heavily protected with large, armed guards standing strong at either side of the gate, all ten of them with gazes sharp and stance rigid. From their crouched position from the other side of the street David’s able to fell every single one with darts shot off from the watch, the guards dropping like flies while Tequila watches on in astonishment. 

“Boy, you’re quick,” Tequila says, letting out a whistle as they stand up and head over to the entrance. “Fancy coming over to work for Statesman? You can’t possibly want to keep working for these- government people.”

“The States is not really my thing,” David says dryly, as he fires off another few darts at approaching men before stepping over their bodies, looking for the doorknob of the large door of the warehouse. He finds it soon enough, or more rather a biometric system unlocked only with a fingerprint that he hacks into using his watch before pushing open the door. “My heart’s not here.”

“No, I’d say it’s with the young man we’re saving, ain’t it?” Tequila asks, smug, and when David looks at him sharply there’s a smug look in his eyes, entirely too arrogant. 

“How did you-”

“Enough chit chat, boys,” Merlin says sharply over their glasses, and Tequila instantly straightens, all sign of mirth gone from his eyes. “I’ve hacked into their systems and turned all their surveillance systems blind, so you’ve got about a second before-”

A sharp, ear splitting siren instantly fills the air, coupled with red flashing lights. The thumb in David’s right hand shakes and he clenches his fist, trying to ward it off. 

“-that happens,” Merlin says, resigned. As if everything is happening on cue, a group of armed guards come rushing towards them, rifles bared and teeth snarled. Instantly, David flies into autopilot, his limbs moving of their own accord as he aims a flying kick at one and fells another with a sharp uppercut. From beside him the sounds of Tequila laughing wildly as he continues to down guard after guard with bullets shot from his big fuck-off rifle echo, a strange soundtrack to accompany the fight. David aims a kick at the center of the chest of the last guard, sending him careening away down the hall and turns to look at Tequila who’s looking right back, slightly impressed. 

“Sure you don’t wanna rethink joining the Statesman?” He asks, and David grins. 

The first warehouse has three levels, each floor with five rooms or so that under normal circumstances, would be stocked with goods. Instead, they’re either full of military personnel or military equipment, grenade launchers and guns and other such paraphernalia that makes David’s gut churn just looking at them. Each and every single room, however, is devoid of Eggsy. 

“First warehouse clear,” David says into his comms. “Heading to the second warehouse now.” He hesitates, looking both ways- at the seemingly unending corridors that seem to never end, at the walls that seem weak and crumbling- before adding, “Tequila and I should split up.”

“What? Absolutely not!” Merlin snaps, at the same time as Tequila saying, “Are you out of your _mind_ , Budd-”

“Listen, Stephen’s probably attempting to move Eggsy as we speak,” David snaps, gesturing at the corridor leading to the second warehouse. He stares at Tequila who just looks unconvinced, beseeching him with his eyes, before continuing, “We can handle it. Any help, and I’ll yell into the comms. But we’re running out of time, and we need to wrap this up before Eggsy slips out of m- out of our grasp.” 

Merlin’s quiet for a while, and for a heartstopping second David wonders if he’s going to say no, tell David that this is why he doesn’t let civilians handle missions. And then Merlin lets out a long sigh, sounding incredibly put upon before saying, “Alright, you heard the man, Tequila.” 

“This is a fucking terrible idea,” Tequila says, breathing out noisily through his nose and raising his rifle to shoot at a stray armed guard who tries to rush them, “but whatever boss man says. Anything at all, Budd, and I’ll be there.” He’s off like a light after that, storming through the corridor that leads to the second warehouse while David jogs through the third. 

The first floor of the third warehouse is empty- only a few guards that David easily shoots down and a few rooms full to the brim only with guns, and nothing else. It’s the same for the second floor and when he’s down to the last room of the last floor David’s heart is in his throat, pounding away to the rhythm of his desperation. The ache in him to find Eggsy is strong, overpowering everything else and he reaches for the doorknob, praying with all his might that he’ll find Eggsy in this one when he hears it- a whimper that David recognises as Eggsy’s, clear as day.

He kicks the door open, and stares. 

Right smack in the middle of the room is Eggsy, tied to a chair and eyes bright with pain. He’s been battered to within an inch of his life, right thigh and left ankle bloodied and almost every inch of his face covered in a smattering of purple and red bruises and scratches. When he looks at David, though, there’s recognition in his eyes- recognition and love. 

Behind Eggsy stands Stephen, a snarl distorting his face into something ugly and sinister, fist clenched in Eggsy’s hair and pulling his head so far back that Eggsy’s throat is stretched, the muscles and cords in it strained to a painful degree. In his other hand is a gun- pressed to Eggsy’s temple. “You didn’t think I’d just let you find my location by accident, did you?” 

“No,” David says slowly, walking into the room and raising his hands up, “I didn’t.” He keeps his gaze on Eggsy, drinking him in. There’s deep bags under Eggsy’s eyes and a tremble to his bottom lip as he minutely shakes his head at David- and then hisses as Stephen yanks his head even further back. 

“Push your gun away,” Stephen orders, and when David doesn’t move, screams, “Do it! Or he dies, Budd- don’t think I won’t pull the fucking trigger!” Eggsy’s eyes shine at him, wide and terrified.

“Okay, okay,” David breathes, setting the gun on the floor and kicking it away with his foot. Thanking the gods above that he’d had the foresight to hide a blade in the sleeve of his wrist he shakes his arm minutely, sliding the blade down to his palm and managing to hide a wince when it cuts a little on its way down. Eggsy watches him from above the gag, the scrape above his brow bleeding sluggishly and his skin so pale it looks almost translucent. _I’ll get you out,_ he tries to scream at Eggsy with his eyes, his hands physically aching with the need to gather him close, kiss away each of his scratches. “Don’t- I’ll do whatever you say, don’t hurt him.”

Eggsy says something beneath the gag- a mumble, and then hisses again as Stephen jams the gun into his forehead. “Quiet,” he orders, before turning to David. “You’re a private man, Budd. It’s been very hard to get compromising intel on you, each time. Hands in the air where I can see them.” 

“You killed Tanya Albright,” David says, slowly raising his hands in the air, the blade hidden behind his fingers. Eggsy’s eyes follow the movement before they widen and then crinkle slightly- in a smirk, David realizes. This is why Merlin had called Eggsy one of his best. “The nurse. Why?” 

“You’re in no position to be asking questions, Budd,” Stephen says, tightening his finger on the trigger. Eggsy struggles in his bonds for a second, thrashing around until Stephen clenches his fist impossibly tighter. His eyes stay on David, sharp and fearful. “Tell me, what do a man whose identity has been wiped clean off the face of the earth, a church full of massacred bigots and a megalomaniac by the name of Richmond Valentine have in common?” 

“I don’t know,” David says plainly, trying to make his expression as honest and believable as possible. “I’m just here to get my boyfriend back.”

“Do not presume to think I know absolutely nothing, David Budd,” Stephen drawls. “I tried to get Tanya Albright to tell me but she didn’t, so I killed her. And then I tried to get your friend, here, to tell me what they have in common. Plucked out all his toenails, and then all his fingernails and still he didn’t budge. So you’re my next best bet- and make it quick, before I put a fucking bullet in his skull.”

“I will,” David says softly, keeping his eyes on Eggsy. His hands have been twisted behind him in the chair, his arms straining against the torn shreds of his shirt. What will he find, David wonders, when he manages to get Eggsy’s hands in his own? His nailbeds, bloodied and torn, little pools of agony and pain wrought about by someone sworn to protect everyone in the country? The parameters of the hell Eggsy has just been through is something David can only guess at, never experience- but it will stay with Eggsy forever, a deep scar in the lobes of his brain. “Just let him go first. _Please_ \- he didn’t do anything wrong. Just let him go.”

“On the contrary, Budd, we have hard evidence linking him to Richmond Valentine’s murder-“ Eggsy protests from behind his gag, something that sounds a lot like _he’s a fucking murderer!_ before Stephen jams in the gun into his temple and roars, “Shut _up!_ ” The knock is hard and forceful, making Eggsy’s head jerk to the side, his eyes momentarily clenching shut in pain. The sight is rather more agonizing than David had anticipated.

“Okay, okay, just don’t _hurt_ him!” David yells, helplessly, his eyes on the way Eggsy’s breathing has become sharp and rapid, his face pale and clammy beneath the cuts and scratches. Eggsy needed medical help, and now- he couldn’t afford to have David standing around uselessly arguing with a man beyond reason. “I’ll tell you everything. I’ll tell you everything, please just-”

A few things happen in unison after that. Eggsy shakes his head frantically, eyes wide with terror and Stephen relaxes his grip on the gun, shining with smug triumph until David flicks his wrist quick as lightning, throwing the blade and watching it bury itself in Stephen’s side. 

_“Fuck!”_ Stephen screams, crumpling to the ground like a bag of bricks. David rushes forward, kicking him away with the heel of his boot before crashing to his knees beside Eggsy and ripping the gag off. “Fuck, we gotta leave,” Eggsy breathes, once the gag is free and hanging around his neck. The corners of his lips are cracked and bleeding as he hunches over David who works at the rope binding his wrists together, gasping, “David, you idiot, you shouldn’t have come for me-”

“I’ll always come for you,” David says sternly, letting out a whistle as the ropes fall. He helps Eggsy stand, slinging his arm over his shoulder and pressing a kiss to the side of his head, matted with blood and sweat and grime. “Darling-”

“You’re in a Kingsman suit,” Eggsy breathes, eyes bright as they hobble over to the door, their gait unsteady and slow. “I didn’t- _ow,_ fuck- how did you get one?” David, instead of answering, presses another kiss to his cheek. He knows if he looks he’ll find blood where Eggsy’s nails used to be, the entire right leg of his pants drenched with so much blood it’s a wonder he’s standing up right now.

They’re almost at the door when Stephen roars, “Sergeant Budd!” from behind David. David only has a split second to push Eggsy away, sending him careening towards the wall before feeling Stephen jump on his back. Both of them crash to the floor, and David chokes at Eggsy, _“Go,”_ before rolling over on the floor, dodging Stephen’s punch. 

“You have to answer to the state, David Budd,” Stephen hisses, as he delivers an uppercut that sends David reeling, scrabbling back on his haunches with his jaw smarting. It seems that all that the knife wound has done is made him sharper and nastier, all the more intent on killing David. “Do you think you can just escape, with what you know? You’re obstructing justice, here-”

“I’m obstructing justice? You _killed_ someone and then tortured god knows how many people!” David snaps, kicking right at Stephen’s wound and exhaling in satisfaction when Stephen howls in pain, bending over. He doesn’t let up, punching at whatever surface he can reach, his knuckles throbbing with a pain that somehow feels distant. 

He rears back his fist, ready to deal a lasting blow and then stays still when Stephen reaches back with his hand and points a glock at him, his hand amazingly steady. “And I will kill many more if it means I get my hands on whatever it is you are hiding- or protecting,” Stephen sneers, his blood flecked teeth bared in a grimace that’s quite frankly ugly and gruesome. “You are but a pawn, David Budd. You were never supposed to be holding vital intel over our heads like leverage.” His fingers visibly tighten on the trigger, and David squeezes his eyes shut, his heart in his throat- _Eggsy,_ he thinks, _Eggsy Eggsy Eggsy-_ when a gunshot goes off and a hot spray of blood hits his face and arms and nose. 

David opens his eyes, coughing, first the left and then the right, to see Stephen on the floor with half his shoulder blown off, out cold on the floor. Tequila is standing right behind him, a gun in his hand and a shocked look on his face. Eggsy’s standing against the wall, mouth agape and gobsmacked.

“Came runnin’ over as fast as I could, and panicked,” Tequila breathes, his hand shaking. He lowers the gun slowly, swallowing visibly in a clear state of panic. “Please tell me I didn’t just shoot a fucking government official.” 

“You didn’t just shoot a fucking government official,” David says weakly, to which Tequila curses loudly, scrubbing a hand over his face wearily. Eggsy makes an attempt to push off from the wall, pale and trembly, and it’s like all of David’s senses come rushing back- he hurries towards Eggsy, and does the one thing he’s been aching to do ever since he first saw Eggsy tied to that chair. He holds Eggsy.

“You two were rolling around, and I couldn’t even do anything,” Eggsy gasps in his ear, watery and panicked. He’s shaking like a leaf, his hands grabbing fistfuls of David’s hair. David tightens his arms around him, breathing in his scent deeply and feeling the world right itself on its axis again. Eggsy, back again where he’s meant to be. “David, god, I was so scared-”

“Now you know how I’ve been feeling for the last two weeks,” David croaks, pressing Eggsy’s face down against his own neck and running his hands down Eggsy’s back. Eggsy’s stiff in his arms in a way that can only mean he’s still in pain, still suffering even as he lays within the circle of David’s arms and David closes his eyes, wishing with all his might that he could make every single bit of agony Eggsy could be experiencing in this moment disappear. “Are- are you okay? Tell me where it hurts, Eggsy.”

“I’m completely fine,” Eggsy says, smiling slightly as he withdraws back until he’s looking David in the eyes. “I feel fine, David. Trust me.” And then his eyes roll back into his head and he slumps in David’s arms, alarmingly limp and causing David’s heart rate to skyrocket. “Eggsy? Eggsy!”

“He’ll be fine, English,” Tequila says, rolling his eyes as David hefts Eggsy into his arms in a bridal carry, the weight too light for it to be any good. Eggsy’s head lolls against his shoulder, his eyelashes casting dark shadows against the top of his cheeks and blood running down from the corner of his lips. David blinks rapidly, tearing his gaze away to focus on Tequila who’s busy tying Stephen up with the same ropes that had bound Eggsy. Eggsy cannot afford for him to lose his sense now. “Now come on before we run into anyone else.”

*

The second their getaway truck hits the Statesmen compound, they’re ushered into a plane set for London, Merlin at the helm. David spends the whole ride hunched over Eggsy, pressing Eggsy’s knuckles- now clean of grit- to his mouth and staring at him, beseeching him for a sign, any sign that he’s okay. Eggsy, of course, doesn’t respond at all- he seems almost unnaturally still, breathing light and skin ashen enough to make worry squirm uncomfortably within David.

“I love you,” David whispers. There’s no one in the back of the plane where David is, Merlin being in the cockpit with the pilot. It’s freeing enough that gives him the space he needs to brush a few strands away from Eggsy’s closed eyelids, trace his cheekbone which feels far too sharp beneath his finger. Eggsy sleeps on, looking so devoid of life that it feels unnatural, otherworldly- this isn’t how it should be. Eggsy should be up right now, joking about how he’s perfectly fine and trying to sneak a kiss on David’s own lips whenever possible, ignoring David’s looks of protests.

The second they’re flown into Kingsman HQ, Eggsy’s ushered into surgery, nurses rushing into the plane and practically ripping him away from David’s arms. The list of what Stephen had put him through, it turns out, is long and extensive, including but not limited to an infected bullet wound in his right thigh, a completely shattered right hand that needs to be set properly, torn nailbeds in all ten toes and fingers, in addition to god knows how many abrasions and broken ribs.

  
“Sir, you cannot come in,” one of the nurses snaps, pushing him out of the way with a hand on his chest as the doors to the emergency ward close behind her with a sort of finality that makes David mad with the desperation to see Eggsy. He pushes her hand away, and cranes his neck around, trying with all his might to see through the doors- ridiculous, but he feels quite possibly out of his mind. “It’s a very delicate surgery, and it’s not protocol to have the next of kin be in the room with the patient the surgery is being conducted on.”  
  


“ _No,_ Eggsy, _please_ \- I’m his lover,” David snaps, trying to push past the nurse who just steps in his way again, effectively blocking him. David decides right there and then that protocol is perhaps his least favourite word on the vocabulary list, right now. “I have the right to see him-”  
  


“David!” Merlin’s there, all of a sudden, pushing him back and away from the doors. He has a tight grip on his arm, blocking his view of the doors and David’s filled with the insane urge to punch him in the face. It is then that he realizes that he needs to compose himself before he hurts anyone else and he deflates, relaxing in Merlin’s grasp. “Eggsy’s going to be fine, alright? He’s going to be perfectly fine.”  
  


“You don’t _know_ that,” David croaks, his voice sounding pathetic and sad even to himself. There’s an image of Eggsy that’s been superimposed on his brain, superseding all other images of Eggsy that he has filed away like a small lockbox of things he’d like to call precious. It is Eggsy, pale and sickly on the stretcher with a nasal cannula stuffed in his nostrils and his eyelids, translucent and strikingly white. His hand doesn’t grip David’s own, in the image, limp and unreactive- just like it had been on the plane.  
  


“The surgery is to save his hand but otherwise? He’s fine,” Merlin insists, pushing him down on a chair and kneeling in front of him. “Alright, David, do you hear me? He’ll live. He’s going to be okay.”  
  


David buries his face in his hands, his heart thumping away in his ears. It’s the beginnings of a panic attack, he knows- his breaths are coming in sharp and rapid, his vision tunneling and his chest feels tight. He feels like an extension of himself, detached and loose. A second longer, and he feels as if he’ll split away, adrift in the space above.  
  


“I don’t-”  
  


“You’re better than this by now, David,” Merlin urges, his hands tight like an anchor on David’s knees. _“Breathe.”_ _  
_

Digging in his nails into his scalp, David violently forces in a breath and forces it out again, repeating the process even if it feels like his lungs are being torn apart. Slowly, the churning in his stomach stops and his vision stops tunnelling, and he lowers his hands from his face, straightening up again. He feels weak, like he’s just run a dozen marathons and come out the worse for it. Merlin stands up too, a vision of impassiveness once again.  
  


“Thank you,” David tells him, his own voice still hoarse.  
  


“For what?” Merlin asks flatly. He sits himself down next to David, setting the clipboard down on the seat next to him. They’re quiet for a while, David staring at the dried blood on his shirt, the buttons undone when Merlin breaks the silence once again. “What are you going to do now?” he asks conversationally, folding his hands in his lap.  
  


“I called Anne Sampson in the plane,” David says heavily, slumping down on the chair. That phone call hadn’t been pleasant at all- the truth of what he’d been doing all this time in Kentucky had been far uglier to put into words, and Sampson had screamed herself hoarse before expressing her utter lack of surprise at Stephen and Mike Travis’ duplicity. “If you remember his hand injury, he got that from punching the living daylights out of someone he was trying to get information from for the V day case,” she’d said, her tone wry. “I got suspicious and went snooping around in his work.”  
  


“She says there’s going to be an enquiry into the Secret Service’s activities, as well as a demotion for Stephen, effective immediately,” David continues. In his honest opinion, Stephen should have gotten a demotion right after it had come out that he’d framed David for Julia’s murder. It figures, though, that there would be actual consequences once civilians were harmed- not just people in the service of the government. That had been telling enough about what David’s value had been, to the Royalty and Specialist Protection division of the defense sector. “There would have been an enquiry for me too, except that I quit.”  
  


Merlin startles, staring at him in dumbfounded shock. “You resigned?”  
  


“Yes,” David says, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead. He doesn’t dare look at Merlin, for fear of finding something he doesn’t exactly want to find. How can he put into words, his sheer exhaustion of fighting for something that refuses to exist? And Eggsy, inside, struggling for his life because he’d been at the mercy of David’s own superiors. That knowledge sits in the pit of David’s stomach like black slime, grimy and unforgettable- that every single cut, graze, wound Eggsy had received sits on his own head. “Couldn’t handle being burned twice, I guess.”  
  


Merlin is quiet, the silence somehow deafening. David dares to flick his gaze up, and finds that Merlin has his lips pressed together, deep in commiseration of some sort. David can’t help the feeling that he’s being judged, sized up for something. “Think that I’m a coward, do you?” He asks dryly. “For quitting before the enquiry can take place?”  
  


“Of course not,” Merlin scoffs, drumming his fingers on the armrest of the chair. “If anything, your actions these past weeks has shown that you’re anything but a coward- daring to question your superiors, chasing a lead down and then doing your best to fix any mess that you wrought. It’s not the best situation, and you probably could have handled it better, but you’re no coward.”  
  


David blinks, a little surprised at the veracity of the reply. He’d for some reason, never expected to gain Merlin’s respect but here it is, shining from every line in Merlin’s face. “Thank you,” he says. “I think.”  
  


“No problem,” Merlin says, and then nods to the bespoke suit David has, partly stained with Eggsy’s blood. His tie hangs around his neck like a noose and his jacket lays unbuttoned and opened, the dried blood stark and brown on the white of the shirt. Seeing Eggsy battered and out cold on the gurney had caused all thoughts of propriety to fly right out of David’s head. “You can change out, you know- they’ve brought in your luggage from the hotel you and Eggsy were at.”  
  


“No, that’s fine,” David says, shrugging. “I’ll just wait here, I think.” He can’t possibly think of freshening up- not now, when Eggsy’s life hangs on by a thread no matter what Merlin says.  
  


“It does suit you well,” Merlin adds, and when David looks confused, continues, “the Kingsman suit. You wear it well. Not everyone does.” Before David can reply, astounded, he turns on his heel and leaves, quick measured steps echoing down the hallway.  
  


*  
  


Eggsy takes five days to wake up after the surgery on his hand, a rather long time for David personally. He spends every waking second by Eggsy’s bedside, warming up Eggsy’s cold hand between his own on some days and talking to him on others. He’s rough with his words, his voice hoarse and unused and his sentences broken up and stuttering, but he’s read somewhere that often, speaking to unconscious patients helps and he’s willing to do anything when it comes to Eggsy.  
  


“The kids talked to me, today,” he tells Eggsy quietly, Eggsy’s left hand lying limply in his own, the other in a thick cast. He’d entangled their fingers together in a tight knot- all the good that that did was negligible, considering Eggsy couldn’t grip his fingers back. “They miss you. Said they’re very worried for you. Charlie, in particular, wanted me to tell you he wore your favourite colour to school today- the school matron put him in detention for it. Blue shimmer, if I’m not wrong.”  
  


Eggsy doesn’t reply, his eyelids slack and his breathing steady. His colour has only improved slightly, a yellowish white beneath all the black and purple and blue of the bruises. It’s a nighttime routine of David’s, to kiss each of the cuts and bruises. There’s a touch of stubble to his jaw that’s endearing, too, considering that Eggsy had always been clean shaven around him- it’s a look that David finds he doesn’t mind.  
  


“I talked to Vicky today, too,” he continues, tracing patterns on the back of Eggsy’s hand. “She’s upset with me quitting the service- wants to know how I’ll keep myself busy now. I don’t know how, to be honest. Maybe I’ll look into being a security guard, or something.” The idea of something so pedestrian, after marching into an abandoned warehouse on a rescue mission had seemed- abhorrent. Try as he might, he can’t deny that fighting is in his blood, be it on the battlefield, protecting someone or leading a rescue mission. He has no idea how he can cope with quitting cold turkey.  
  


“Told her I couldn’t stand following the orders of a group of people I couldn’t trust as far as I could throw them. She didn’t believe me, can you imagine? Said I’d be begging to be let back in by them within the week.”  
  


“I sure hope not,” Eggsy says. “They don’t deserve you. Never did.”  
  


“I’d like to think so,” David says, absently raising Eggsy’s knuckles to his mouth for a kiss and then shooting up, staring at Eggsy. Eggsy’s awake, staring right back at him with a tired smile, his hand finally gripping back with a hold that’s admittedly weak, but there.  
  


“Hey, baby,” Eggsy breathes, his eyes shining. “My knight in shining armour.”  
  


“Eggsy, love,” David breathes right back, jumping up and hovering over Eggsy, terrified to touch him for fear of the illusion breaking down. Eggsy follows the movement with sharp eyes, blinking rapidly. “God, you terrified me so much- hold on, I’ll get the doctor-”  
  


 _“No!”_ Eggsy yelps, and at David’s stare says sheepishly, “No, just stay here, will you? Come on, stay with me for a bit.” He tugs on David’s arm weakly until David seats himself by his side. He then releases David’s hand, raising his own which trembles slightly until David inclines his own head to meet it, nuzzling his palm. “The last I saw, you were out cold in the hospital. David, I was so terrified- thought you’d never wake up again. That I got you, and then lost you.” He traces his thumb over the top of David’s cheekbone, his eyes roving over David like he can’t get enough of him. David thinks, randomly and frantically, that he’d missed the colour of Eggsy’s eyes- like moss on a rock by the sea. “Are you okay?”  
  


“Am I- Eggsy, I’m fine,” David says, disbelievingly. Here’s Eggsy, laid up in a hospital bed and he’s asking after him. It makes David feels worse, somehow, about it being his fault that Eggsy’s out of commission like this. “Please, love, let me call the doctor- you’re shaking.”  
  


“Alright, alright,” Eggsy breathes, letting his hand flop back to the bed and sighing out, sounding exhausted and weary. “Yeah, call him in.” It’s more worrying than anything that Eggsy acquiesces to his demand- as David presses the button for the doctor Eggsy hoists himself up further before resting his forehead against David’s shoulder, abnormally quiet. David inclines his head slightly and presses his lips against the side of his head, the worry yet again twisting the pits of his stomach.  
  


Halfway through the check up by the doctor- Merlin hovering behind him, looking concerned- Eggsy falls back asleep again, the pallor of his cheeks arresting David’s gaze. He nibbles at his thumbnail, keeping his eyes on the way Eggsy’s chest rise and falls, how he’d fallen asleep with his face turned towards David as the doctor drones on and on about the various medications Eggsy is now on.  
  


“Bottom line is he’ll be fine if he takes it very easy this next two weeks and does all the exercises for his hand regularly,” the doctor finishes saying, closing the clipboard and turning to Merlin and David expectantly. “If there’s anything else-”  
  


“Nothing else,” Merlin says, and adds, “Thank you, Morgana.”  
  


“Morgana,” David says, as the doctor leaves quietly, the door falling shut behind him, “that’s a female name, isn’t it?”

  
“We don’t assign gender to agent names, here,” Merlin says, drawing up a chair as David flops into the ones by Eggsy’s bedside, gathering his left hand in his own once again. Eggsy sleeps on- a natural sleep, this time round- his fringe glittering slightly and his fingers and eyebrow twitching in sleep. Eventually, David knows, Merlin will call Eggsy in for a debriefing. He isn’t sure if he wants to be there- listen with his own ears about what Eggsy had went through at Stephen’s hands, at Mike Travis’ hands. Every single mark marring Eggsy’s skin acts as a reminder, a sharp one enough to draw blood, of what he’s done to the one he loves. It’s not a pleasant experience, not at all.  
  


“I expect you to return home,” Merlin says suddenly, and David looks up sharply. “Get a change of clothes, wash up or something. Now that he’s alright, I mean.”  
  


“I’m not about to leave him,” David retorts, clenching Eggsy’s hand tighter. “I’m staying, whether you-”  
  


“Jesus, don’t get so defensive,” Merlin snaps, scrubbing a hand wearily over his face. Up close, his face is lined and appears overtired; David is suddenly keenly aware of all that Merlin must have gone through, too. It must be hard, to have your lover and then your good friend both be injured so severely. “You can come back. It’s just that you look fucking terrible, Budd, like you haven’t washed anything in a week.”  
  


David shifts guiltily in his chair, keeping quiet. It’s more or less the truth- he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about anything but Eggsy, Eggsy’s health and happiness and safety. It’s funny how all your other necessities can all seem to disappear, fade away when the one sole purpose of your existence has been compromised.  
  


“You know I’m right,” Merlin says confidently, leaning back in his chair. “Eggsy is tough, David. He’ll pull through.”  
  


“I know he will,” David says, brushing a knuckle over Eggsy’s cheek. It’s not that he doesn’t think Eggsy is weak- it’s that seeing him limp on the bed, unresponsive and unaware of everything around him had been like seeing his greatest nightmare come to life. David had thought he’d known nightmares- as it turns out, not before this. “It’s just- I was scared.”  
  


“I can understand,” Merlin says quietly. They stay in companiable silence for a while, David keeping his gaze watchfully on Eggsy and Merlin fiddling away with his phone, before Merlin says, “Tell me about how you two met?”  
  


David looks up at that, taken aback. “I thought he’d told you,” he says, stunned.  
  


Merlin snorts. “Of course he didn’t,” he replies. “Eggsy forgets, often, that the people who work with him do give a shit about him outside of work. Brings me coffee and reminds me so often that I need to take a break that I can recite his words in his sleep but once we extend the same care to him, it’s as if he’s expecting to be booted So tell me- it was at that support group with Victoria, wasn’t it?”  
  


David rubs a thumb over the back of Eggsy’s hand, slow concentric circles like the ones Eggsy likes to rub on his own hand. “Yes,” he says, smiling slightly as he remembers dashing after a nervous young man with blonde hair that shone in the meagre light of the lobby, green eyes that seemed to twinkle brighter than any star he’d laid eyes on. “It was at the support group- the best decision I’d ever made in my life.”  
  


*  
  


Anne Sampson goes to see him the day he clears all his things away from his cubicle in the office of the department of the royal services. It is an entire afternoon of fielding awkward advances by people whose names he never got to know and now probably never will, saying absolutely useless epithets like “so sorry to see you go, mate,” and “so what’s the plan now, eh?”, after which he lugs the box that is less than half full of trinkets and stray documents from his desk out to the hallway. It is there that Anne Sampson accosts him, looking about as composed and put together as she always is, or at least in comparison to him.  
  


“I know you don’t believe it, but we _are_ sorry to see you leave,” she says, peering at him with a keen, piercing look, her lips set in a stern line. “You were a fantastic addition to the department. I know Julia would be immensely proud of all the work you’ve done for us, here.”  
  


“I don’t know about that,” David says helplessly, adjusting his grip on the box he’s been holding. He doesn’t know what Julia would think of any of his actions this past few weeks, at all. Abandoning everything to go running half-cocked after someone he’d suspected of foul play all the way in fucking Kentucky- it’s a recklessness evident in every limb of Eggsy’s, but not in Julia’s. The two couldn’t have been more different if they’d tried. “But thank you.”  
  


“I must express our eternal gratitude for the recording,” Sampson says. Her speech is full of the appropriate gratitude her words are trying to convey but her eyes say something else altogether- shrewd, and a little suspicious. “You say you recorded by hiding your phone in your pocket?”  
  


“Yes,” David affirms, his heart thumping a little faster, almost painful. He looks away from Sampson’s all too piercing gaze, keeping his gaze fixed on a spot above Sampson’s shoulder. “Is everything alright? With- the recording?”  
  


“Oh yes, it’s been processed and Stephen’s already been let go, poor man,” she says, not sounding all that sorry about it. It hadn’t been a well kept secret that Anne Sampson hated the living guts of Mike Travis, Stephen and his ilk. “It’s just- the recording is almost unnaturally clear. Very unlike an iPhone voice memo.”  
  


“My phone’s a Samsung,” David offers, not daring to look directly at Sampson. He’s almost certain if he does, Sampson will be able to see right through him. If he can do one thing right, it is to keep his promise to Merlin and not leak Kingsman’s details inadvertently.  
  


“Hm,” Sampson grunts, and then quick as lightning, changes the subject. “So what’s the plan now? Be a boring house husband to your young man once he’s recovered?”  
  


At that, David definitely chokes. “Marriage isn’t on the cards yet,” he says hastily, well aware that it had been a joke and yet feeling the sting of- something- go through him at the mention of husband. The fact that it doesn’t sound unpleasant, not at all is enough to make his insides recoil in fear. Eggsy still deserved far, far better than him, that is for certain. “And I’m not sure yet- probably find a job somewhere as a security guard, or something. Low risk.” The thought of waiting around idly after years of fighting, years of blood on his hands leaves a bitter taste on his mouth but it is what it is- the options are rather limited for a man with PTSD listed like a glaring red mark on his resume, even if stigma has significantly lessened in the wake of V day.  
  


 _“You_ in low risk?” Sampson laughs, though the laughter isn’t derisive or at the expense of David, per se. “Wonders never cease.”  
  


“I could make it work if I wanted to,” David argues, shifting his grip on the box again. Behind the glass doors of the department’s office, sergeants are peering through the doors curiously at them. It is not an ordinary occurrence for the head of police to keep such a lengthy conversation with someone resigning. David wonders what that says about the almost-friendship between him and Sampson, and realises with a pang that he will indeed miss the official in front of him.  
  


“I don’t doubt that,” Sampson says, although her expression says otherwise, with her lips pressed together like she’s avoiding breaking into a smile. “If you’re looking for an opening, however, I hear Saville Row’s always looking.”  
  


David looks back at her sharply at that. Sampson stares back at him serenely, her face giving nothing away. “Yeah?” He manages, hoping his own doesn’t give anything away either. “I might look into it, then.”  
  


“Kingsman tailors, to be exact,” Sampson says, and David freezes. “Look for Hamish- he’s always in need of people. Well, I’ll see you when I see you, Sergeant.”  
  


She turns on her heel and walks off, heels clip clopping along the hallway. David only manages to stare after her, dumbfounded and speechless.  
  


*

David hadn’t anticipated how terrible of a patient Eggsy would turn out to be. A week into prescribed bedrest and Eggsy has to be chased back into the medical wing of Kingsman HQ, practically dragged kicking and screaming back into his bed. He takes to medical rest as a cat to water- that is, not at all.  
  


“I can’t believe I’ve been suspended from missions,” Eggsy grouses from the bed, arms crossed and lips pursed in an irritable pout. It’s adorable but David doesn’t dare tell him that now, for fear of incurring his wrath as well. Lately, no one has been safe from it. “I’m perfectly fine.”  
  


“You’re not fine at all, darling,” David says, flipping through the newspaper til he gets to the jobs wanted section. It’s been a process he painstakingly goes through every morning- unfortunately, it doesn’t come to fruition very often. None of the jobs listed entice him much- or even interest him in the slightest. He’s starting to feel like quitting the force may have doomed him to a life of eternal boredom in a stale corporate job he’ll be forced by Vicky to take.  
  


By the way the side of his cheek suddenly prickles, he knows Eggsy’s turned his glare on him. He continues, “You were hurt, badly- you still are.” He raises his head, meeting Eggsy’s furious eyes, and says softly, “I do wish you’d tell me what they did to you in there.”  
  


The switch is instant. In a second, the fire is gone and Eggsy turns his head slightly to the side, shifty. He hefts himself up in a more proper sitting position and replies, “and I’ve _told_ you that you don’t need to concern yourself with me.” He had, and often- in the days following him waking up, Eggsy’s sleep has been restless and patchy. David had woken up once, curled up uncomfortably in his chair in the middle of the night, to find Eggsy sitting up straight and staring into space with his eyes glassy and distant. Merlin had promised David that Eggsy would be going for counselling sessions immediately after his discharge, but not before Eggsy has had the chance to become physically healthy. The consequence of that is David having to see the love of his life, the one man his heart still beats for, become sullen and quiet, wrestling with his own demons and bringing up a wall so high David has no hope of even starting to scale it,  
  


“I know, but I dragged you into this,” David says, keeping his tone just as soft. He folds up the newspaper, setting it aside- the job hunt can wait- before picking Eggsy’s hand in his own, pressing his mouth to his reddened knuckles. A week ago, they’d been covered in scratches and abrasions, the skin nearly hidden. Now, they’ve healed up- but the image has been burned at the back of David’s retinas forever, a scar. Eggsy shifts his head on the back of the bed to look at David more fully in the eye, his own gaze adoring. It’s a look that David knows Eggsy sees in his own as well.  
  


“You didn’t _drag_ me into it, bruv,” Eggsy says incredulously. His other hand is still in a cast, only the fingers visible, but he raises it anyway, stretching it towards David until he can trace the lines in his face with them, his eyebrows and lips and nose. “I went willingly. I told you once, I think. I’d follow you anywhere in the world.”  
  


“Don’t call me bruv. And you did,” David agrees, before hesitating. The bruises on his face are put in harsh relief in the low light of the hospital room, making Eggsy seem almost skeletal. The bags beneath his eyes certainly don’t help. “Doesn’t mean it’s not my fault that you were hurt so badly. Eggsy, they fucking-”  
  


“I survived, didn’t I?” Eggsy says petulantly. He drops his hand to the bed, staring at David so intently David feels his gaze pierce his heart, right down to his soul. “And it wasn’t your fault. Come on, David, it could have never been your fault. No one could have predicted what happened.”  
  


Eggsy’s words are true- and also words that he’s heard from Merlin as well. No one had expected it of Stephen, for him to be so determined in following orders to the tee and for Mike Travis to be so intent on solidifying his own power that he’d been willing to sacrifice anything that stood in his path. No one had expected it, so it was okay for David to drag the one he’d loved more than anyone else in the world into a mess that had never been his to clean up. It’s a logic that doesn’t work for David, one that he’s tried to make work against all rational Will and failed horribly.  
  


“I can’t help but think,” David says softly, threading his fingers with Eggsy’s like he’s done so many times before, the move intimate and familiar, “that if I hadn’t dragged you into all this, that you’d be okay. That you’d stayed over after a night out at the cinemas, and that we’d be in my kitchen right now making breakfast.”  
  


“David-” Eggsy whispers, his expression sorrowful as he leans forward, and David rushes to speak because he knows, somehow, that if he doesn’t he’ll end up bottling it within himself, letting it grow into a wench between them, insidious and parasitic. “You’d be telling me about how you found another cool new healthy brand of dog food for JB and I’d be busy nodding and pretending I was listening when all I could really think of was kissing you against the kitchen counter.” He clears his throat, blinking rapidly and fixing his gaze on an arbitrary spot above Eggsy’s shoulder. “But we’re here instead- you out of surgery with your hand in a cast, a hole in your leg and me, here, to blame for all of it.”  
  


“And do you honestly think I don’t understand how you feel?” Eggsy hisses, scooting forward on the bed until he’s as close to David as he can possibly get, their breaths intermingling in the air between them. This close, David can see the sheen in his eyes- the tears his words had put there. “I went through it with Harry, and then I went through it with you, in South Glade hospital. I kept seeing you like that, unconscious on that bed and unable to bear me calling you repeatedly and I kept thinking, what if I’d gone with him to that fucking godforsaken church every day? Put my foot down, ignored Harry’s state and chosen you instead?”  
  


David’s unable to look at Eggsy at that, swallowing roughly and staring at his own knee instead. He picks at a thread and hears Eggsy sigh. There’s a shuffle and then a grunt which causes David to look up, seeing Eggsy pat the pillow next to him decisively, a determined glint in his eye. “We’re like this because we haven’t cuddled in ages,” he says confidently. “Chop chop, then- I haven’t got all day.”  
  


The opposite is true, but David can’t help a smile, the corner of his lips lifting against his will. He places the newspaper on the desk by the bed before climbing onto the bed, carefully maneouvring Eggsy’s IV drip until he’s able to gather Eggsy close to him, their legs tangled together and Eggsy’s head laying on his chest, Eggsy having taken the opportunity to tuck his hand beneath his shirt and trace circles on his stomach. Perhaps what Eggsy had said had some truth to it- the second he has Eggsy back in his arms, his clean scent filling his nose and the lines of his back resting against his palms, easy and strong, the anxiety and regret in David’s stomach begins to ease slightly.  
  


“The regret of what ifs will eat us both alive,” David says into the air, staring up at the ceiling and rubbing his hand down Eggsy’s back. “I know this. It’s just- hard sometimes, not to get caught up in my own head.”  
  


Eggsy props his chin up on his clavicle, grinning at him. “I know, you big, silly idiot,” he laughs, tapping the side of his forehead with his index finger, light but insistent. “It’s my job to bring you out.”  
  


David can’t help but press a kiss on his forehead at that. They bask in silence for a while, Eggsy absently tracing letters and shapes on his stomach before saying hesitatingly, “So I heard you were really good at the rescue mission for me- Tequila was pretty impressed.”  
  


“He’s easily impressed,” David grunts.  
  


“True,” Eggsy says, propping his head up again, his chin digging into David’s clavicle rather painfully. “But Merlin was impressed, too. Wouldn’t stop raving about how you got Stephen to admit to Albright’s murder.”  
  


“He was?” David asks, taken aback. He finds it much easier to be around Merlin, these days- the man had a hard exterior, but David’s grown to find that he’s got a heart, unlike what David had assumed.  
  


“Oh, definitely,” Eggsy confirms, looking back at him with something sly in his eyes. It’s a look that makes David feel suspicious, certainly. “Hard to impress Merlin. And- I don’t know, I’d wager a guess that your job hunt isn’t going all that well.”  
  


“It isn’t,” David says, and then narrows his eyes. “But the two aren’t related at all. Are they?”  
  


“Of course not,” Eggsy says innocently, laying his head back down again. “But I’d be surprised if you figured me out already. I certainly didn’t date you for your brains, David Budd.”  
  


“I can just as well push you off this bed and break your hand again,” David says pointedly, partly because the suspicion in him has grown into a yawning gap and partly just to feel Eggsy break into peals of laughter against his skin, his entire body quaking in the most delightful manner.  
  


*

Merlin accosts him one day, on his way back from seeing Eggsy. “How’s he doing?” Merlin urges, leading him to a side.  
  


David thinks of Eggsy, shooting awake in the middle of the night before dry heaving over the side of his bed, panting after stretching out the fingers on his hand for a mere five seconds, stubbornly trying to walk for more than he had been stipulated by Morgana and immediately going an ashen colour. The recovery process is slow and painful, and Eggsy has long run out of patience. It’s all David can do, some days, to prevent Eggsy from slipping back into the dark pits of self-loathing and hatred he’d been in during those dreaded post V-day days. “He’s alright, I think,” David says, wringing his hands, and at Merlin’s look amends, “he’s trying to do more than he can.”  
  


“Sounds like him,” Merlin says, an approving tint to this tone. He peers at David through his glasses, and David has the strange feeling of being dissected. “You know, I didn’t actually approach you to talk about Eggsy.”  
  


“You didn’t?” David asks, confused. He leans against the door to the medical wing behind him, his interest piqued. He knows Merlin- not well, but enough to know that Merlin’s not about to do something drastically cruel to him like garrot him with a fork. That had been a fear he’d used to have, in the first few days right after waking up at the Statesmen medical wing. “Is something up?”  
  


Merlin regards him for a bit, and then says, “You asked me something, in front of the Statesmen armory. Do you remember?” When David shakes his head in the negative, incredibly confused, he continues, “I asked you why you didn’t look awed or impressed by it. You said that it was too much power. You said, _how can you know that you can trust the person at the top?”_  
  


Perhaps David had been wrong in his previous presumption that he could trust Merlin not to do anything untoward. His heartbeat quickening, he says, “Yes, I do remember. Why-”  
  


“I never answered you,” Merlin cuts in, his voice curt and his face unreadable, as always. “The answer is you don’t. You trust blindly, anyway. It’s a lesson taught to each and every single one of our agents.” Merlin sighs, then, and reaches up to take his glasses off, running a hand over his scalp. The movement draws attention to the wrinkles on his face, the circles beneath his eyes. “It’s a lesson that brought us to ruin during V day. I trust Eggsy told you everything?” At David’s nod, he continues, “Trusting blindly is what led to Harry’s death- led to the world being thrown into chaos for four minutes, led to you with a bomb strapped to your chest with everyone around you fooled by the powers that be that you were to blame. Do you- understand now?”  
  


Strangely enough, David does. It makes him breathe a little easier- it seemed that perhaps, like minds lived on in Kingsman after all. He’d thought otherwise- then again, he’s thought wrong about a lot of things during this whole disaster.  
  


“Eggsy doesn’t trust blindly,” Merlin says, his eyes dark. “Neither do you. I need more men like you at Kingsman.”  
  


David straightens up sharply at that, his heart in his throat. Merlin can’t possibly be implying what he’s thinking- can he? “I don’t understand-”  
  


“Oh, don’t act stupid, David, I’m asking you to join Kingsman,” Merlin snaps. “You can fight, you can follow orders and you have a good head on your soldiers. Candidate trials for one of the unfilled spots start at eight pm sharp tomorrow- Tristan. Be my proposal for the position.”  
  


“I don’t-” David blinks more rapidly, his heartbeat quickening even faster. His thumb starts shaking again, and he shoves his hand into the pocket of his jacket. Merlin’s eyes, ever sharp, follow the movement and they soften imperceptibly, his stance becoming looser as well.  
  


“At least think on it,” Merlin urges. “You told me you quit the Royalty and Specialist Protection. Eggsy told me how badly your little job hunt’s going. And I hardly think you’re the type of man suited to a desk job for the rest of your life.”  
  


“You and Eggsy talk about me, then,” David manages, shock still coursing through his veins.  
  


“Oh, often,” Merlin says dryly. “You’re all he can talk about. He was a bit miffed that I’d be making you my proposal instead of giving him the chance, but he piped down once I explained the conflict of interest to him. Think about it and let me know by tonight, yeah? Good man.” He claps David on the shoulder and marches off, David staring after him.  
  


It is a strange thing, to be wanted because of your skepticism in life, your distrust in people in general. David goes home and feeds JB, orders takeout and does nothing but think about it. He thinks about feeling that rush in his veins when he’d taken those men in the warehouse down, when he’d tricked Stephen into confessing to those crimes. He thinks about Eggsy, broken in the bed because of what he’d done. He thinks about himself, his mind irreparably scarred and the fractures in his soul evident in his shaking thumb and night terrors, and how they’re about to increase if he heeds what Merlin asks of him.  
  


Merlin picks up on the first ring. “I’ll do it,” David says into the phone, rushed and exhilarated.

“Welcome to the candidate trials for Tristan, Sergeant Budd,” Merlin says into the phone, the smirk evident in his voice.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all we have left now is the epilogue!!! i know harry and roxy aren't mentioned at all in this chapter but thats because they come in in a bigger way in the epilogue. this story is entirely fucking incoherent but ive had fun writing it and i hope yall loved it!! as always you can scream at me at my tumblr xo


	7. Chapter 7- Epilogue Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for ptsd mention, graphic torture mention

The one thing Eggsy has come to hate the most about recovery, he’s realised, is the agonising and slow waiting. Hours and hours of him lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling after he’s gotten bored with fiddling on his phone or reading the books David had unceremoniously dropped on his bedside table one day. “A fun way to pass the time,” he’d said unrepentantly as Eggsy had gingerly picked up the _Art Of War_ , staring at David incredulously. “Try it, please.” It’s hours of him unable to feel the change in his limbs, the hole in his thigh and the flesh on his nailbeds raw and bleeding, making him practically a corpse. It’s hours of him hobbling slowly to the bathroom whenever he needs to wee, panting with the effort by the time he reaches the door and hating himself for it. And it’s hours of him being unable to do anything but watch the days slip by, his own thoughts festering within himself.  
  


It results in him being an absolutely horrible patient, sulking at the walls and refusing to talk much to anyone except for David. It just angers him, incessantly, to see everyone moving on fine with their lives and him, stuck within four walls and unable to do anything but watch and eat and sleep. The one thing Eggsy’s always dreaded the most is being still, and that’s what he becomes on that hospital bed.  
  


“You’ll get out soon enough,” Morgana tells him one day, checking his vitals before instructing him to sit up. He steps back, waiting as Eggsy painfully hoists himself on his elbows before hefting his torso upright. Who knew that having your ribs broken in and all the bones in your right hand completely crushed would make sitting up feel tantamount to running a race within seconds? Eggsy certainly didn’t. “As long as you do your exercises and don’t strain yourself.”  
  


“I just want to get out,” Eggsy grouses, as he stretches his hands out, going through the movements of the exercises Morgana has assigned him to and feeling ridiculous for it under his watchful eyes. “I hate this place.”  
  


“You and every other Kingsman agent,” Morgana says dryly, nodding approvingly at him before instructing him to stand up. “You know, Harry Hart used to be here a lot too. Hated it every time.”  
  


“He was?” Eggsy stares at Morgana. The man in question is at the far end of the medical wing, hooked up to machines and still in a coma. Sometimes, Eggsy will make the effort to sit beside him and tell him about his day, or what David had messaged him the other day. Other times, Eggsy watches as Merlin creeps into the wing in the dead of night, sitting beside Harry and talking to him about anything in particular- the Tristan trials, the prototypes for exploding ties backfiring in the lab, Bors fucking up his mission yet again. If Merlin had wanted to hide anything about him and Harry, it would be nigh on impossible now.  
  


“Sure did,” Morgana says absently, scrawling something on his clipboard. “Didn’t like bed rest either. He was worse than you about taking his meds- made me want to tear my fucking hair out.”  
  


Morgana, to Eggsy, seems like a permanent fixture of the medical wing- except that he’s about the same age as David, in his late twenties. It doesn’t feel at all that believable that Morgana would have been the one to look over the aftermath of all of Harry’s disastrous missions. “When did you join?”  
  


“None of your business,” Morgana retorts, looking up again. “Go through exercises one through four for me, please.”  
  


The exercises are almost unendurably taxing and by the end of it Eggsy just wants to lie down on the bed and sleep for a thousand fucking years. It’s galling, because he knows that it wasn’t be like this prior to the torture he’d gone through at the hands of Stephen. He flops heavily down on the bed, watching as Morgana scribbles down something else before taking his vitals again. “The important thing, Gawain,” Morgana says, as he continues writing on the clipboard, his fringe falling over his eyes and covering his expression from Eggsy, “is that you will get better. Just like every other agent that came here before you.”  
  


“Did they have fucking nightmares like cowards, too?” Eggsy snaps, exhausted. He regrets it almost immediately and flicks his eyes upward, half afraid of what he’s going to find when he sees Morgana set his pen down, looking almost thoughtful.  
  


“They did,” Morgana says, finally. “And then they got used to it.”  
  


Eggsy swallows, swinging his legs up and looking away from Morgana. The knowledge of his nightmares spilling out makes him feel filthy, ashamed somehow. He shouldn’t, at twenty three, be feeling terrified of when the sky grows dark and his eyelids close. He shouldn’t be feeling terrified of his own mind, the memories that have lodged themselves in there.  
  


“In Kingsman, there are various facilities available to those who need them,” Morgana continues, hugging the clipboard against his chest and fixing Eggsy with a direct, severe gaze. “I suggest you make full use of them.”  
  


He leaves, and Eggsy stares after him, his words ringing in his ears.  
  


*  
  


Roxy, who’d been on a long undercover mission in Madrid, comes back tanned, healthy and furious. David had pressed another book into his hands the night before, having sneaked in long after it had already been lights out for the Tristan recruits. He’d been flipping through the pages painfully with his bandaged fingers, reluctantly involved in the slow-moving plot when Roxy had stormed in, hair twisted into an untidy knot with her jacket zipped up to her neck.  
  


“Roxy!” Eggsy says happily, putting the book down. “I was wondering when you’d get back-”  
  


“What the _hell_ happened to you?” Roxy demands, sitting down. Eggsy feels his own smile falter slightly, but he still manages to maintain it on his lips, a fixture and a mask. He can tell by the look in Roxy’s eyes that she’s learnt by now to look past them. “When I left you were fine, and now-”  
  


“Mission,” Eggsy says, keeping unnaturally still and his eyes to the left of her head. It’s deliberate, because Eggsy has no idea how to even breach talking about something like that. How the hell can he even begin to say, _I got tortured by my boyfriend’s former boss?_ “Nothing important, I promise. Didn’t Merlin tell you about it?”  
  


“No,” Roxy says, raising an eyebrow. “He told me to ask you.”  
  


“Typical,” Eggsy grunts, annoyed. Leave it to Merlin to refuse to help out him out even a little. “Someone was poking around what we did during V day from the government, so I went to the States to investigate. Stumbled upon Merlin hiding Harry there, got kidnapped by said people and tortured, hence the-” he wiggles his fingers, and then regrets it almost immediately, the ache that goes through them making him wince.  
  


“Torture,” Roxy says faintly, leaning forward and gently taking his hand in her own. The tips are bandaged pretty firmly, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened. Torture for Kingsman agents is a premonition, doomsday waiting to fall. It is inevitable for everyone, and yet Eggsy had hoped that it would be long before either of them had to ever go through it. He certainly hadn’t expected it to befall either of them, and perhaps that had been naive of him considering the line of work they were in. Being a spy sounds so often glorious on paper- in practise, not as much so. “Are you-” She stops, an inscrutable expression on her face. It is clear as day that the sight of him like this, out of commission, has unnerved her.  
  


“I’m not going to quit anytime soon, if that’s what you want to know,” Eggsy says dryly, trying to bring some brevity back into the conversation. He turns their hands over before patting her gently on the back of her hand, waiting until she looks back up again. “I’m not torn up about it, either. Aside from a few nightmares, I’m completely fine.”  
  


Roxy is quiet as she looks back at him, her gaze piercing and Eggsy wonders if she’s about to call him out on his bulllshit. If she’s about to point attention to the way there is a slight tremble in his smile, the way he avoids looking directly at her and how his fingers are slightly curled, as if he’s trying to force them out of his sight. Roxy is much more perceptive than Eggsy would like for her to be- this much he knows. It is thus a relief when Roxy says, finally, “if you’re sure,” smiling a little back when Eggsy beams at her. “Harry’s in a coma?”  
  


“Has been in one ever since I first saw him at the States,” Eggsy confirms, gesturing with his chin to the other end of the wing where Harry lays still, feeling the smile slip off his face. “Merlin says there’s hope- his vitals seem to have been improving recently, but I’m not sure.”  
  


“Harry, alive,” Roxy breathes, craning her neck around him, clearly marveling at the incredulity of it all. Everyone- the rest of the surviving agents, that is- had seen the video after all- Harry, unrestrained and furious in the church before he’d stumbled out and allowed a bullet to bury itself in his brain. It should be impossible, Eggsy knows- and yet, he’d come back, alive. It would seem that cats weren’t the only living beings with nine lives, after all.  
  


“Who’d have thought,” Eggsy says, grinning once again. He can’t quell the sudden resentment and regret that rises up in him at the thought- the same Harry who’d told him that recruiting him was just a way to pay a debt to his father, the same Harry he’d accused of having his father stuffed, in a coma. A million regrets and insecurities and questions between him and Harry- would he ever have them addressed and answered? Or would they form a barrier between them, sky high if Harry ever woke? He catches Roxy peering at him slightly too closely, and hastens to change the subject. “I hear you’re training the new Tristan recruits?”  
  


“Yes,” Roxy says, looking slightly taken aback by the abrupt change in conversation. “I’ll take over from Lamorak- start training them in two days.”  
  


“Don’t torture them too much,” Eggsy says, grinning. “I think you’ll find this batch- more promising.” He considers telling Roxy about David, and then decides against it. It would be better to let Roxy form her opinion of him- besides, far be it for Roxy to assume he got in on anything other than his own merit all because of Eggsy’s big mouth.  
  


“Than the last one? One of whom told me I should try changing the female suits to cover less skin? I don’t think so,” Roxy retorts, visibly shuddering at the very memory. Eggsy can relate- the recruits for Kay had been a disaster, with each one more horrible than the other. Somehow, Kingsman agents had the charming penchant of choosing the very worst of the lot as recruits for what is supposedly the best private espionage agency in the country.  
  


“Oh, I think these recruits are different, Roxalot. Come on- give them a chance.” Roxy still looks like she’d sooner believe that Merlin’s become evil, which is very fair. Eggsy knows, though, that she will be very much blown over by David. Who wouldn’t be?  
  


*  
  


Nails are dead cells. Eggsy was top of his class for biology back in high school, so even he knows this. Dead cells essentially mean no nerve endings, nothing- he can’t feel them grow back. It is this fact that niggles at the back of his brain, haunting and an omen as he sits back in the bed and waits for Morgana to take off the bandages bit by bit from his left hand. David’s by his side, holding his other hand which is still heavily encased in a cast- by the time that is off, he suspects he’ll be older than even Merlin.  
  


Morgana starts unravelling the bandages, and he immediately has to cast his gaze away, turning to look at David instead. “How’s the trials going?” he asks, keeping his gaze on David. David has his own gaze on Eggsy’s fingers, an unreadable expression in his eyes.  
  


“What? Oh, it’s fine,” David says dismissively, his gaze still on the fingers. With a slight bit of difficulty, Eggsy withdraws his heavy, cast covered hand and whacks David’s hand with it.  
  


“Ow!” David yelps. “Eggsy, what the hell-”  
  


“Don’t just say it’s fine, _distract_ me you moron,” Eggsy snaps irritably. He has no idea what went on in David’s head these days, and the fact gnaws at him like an insect. David will look at him in a certain way, sometimes, his eyes so far away Eggsy thinks that he’ll have to cross a fucking galaxy before reaching him. It’s not a particularly pleasant conclusion to arrive at. “I need to not think about how ugly my fingers are looking at the moment.”  
  


“They look fine to me,” David says gently, the look in his eyes softening from outright annoyance to something more understanding. It makes Eggsy’s stomach twist uncomfortably. He doesn’t know if he wants David getting so easily to what he fears these days. “Perfectly beautiful.”  
  


“They’re not all off yet,” Eggsy retorts. “Come _on_ , tell me more. Is there anyone you made friends with?”  
  


“They’re all annoying,” David snorts, taking his right hand in his own again. Another thing that’s aggravating about the cast is that Eggsy can’t feel anything through the heavy bandage- he definitely cannot feel the warmth of David’s hand enveloping his own, a comfort. “There was one, especially, who keeps saying I’m way too old to be in any trials for any agent. That it’s an unfair advantage and I should be kicked out.”  
  


“What?” Eggsy gapes at him, feeling anger overtake his extremities slowly but surely. No one got away with saying that sort of shit to _his_ David- his David, who was ten times better than the lot of them put together anyway. “That’s fucking wrong, I’m telling Roxy-”  
  


“And how will you tell her you knew about this?” David asks sardonically, shifting around in his seat until he’s found a more comfortable spot, thumb idly drawing shapes on the back of the cast. “She doesn’t know we’re dating, does she? She’s going to think that I’m- I’m here because of you, or something. Which I am, but-”  
  


“You’re not here because of me,” Eggsy says incredulously. “You’re here because Merlin recognised your potential, and how wasted you were at the Royalist services. You’re here because you _should_ be here. Nothing to do with me.”  
  


David looks up at that, shock in his eyes. Eggsy hadn’t known, hadn’t possibly guessed at how much David must have been second guessing his place at Kingsman until then, with surprise and awe and relief shining through in David’s eyes, brighter than the sky. It makes his heart ache, for the man David must have been in the past- he would like nothing more, sometimes, than to tug him close and tell him that he was worthy of every accolade, every drop of praise and more. David deserves everything, and it is a right shame, Eggsy thinks as he watches David take in a deep breath, his bottom lip trembling with emotion, that David doesn’t think that about himself.  
  


“You really think so?” David asks tremulously. “That I deserve to be here?”  
  


“I know so, you dummy,” Eggsy says gently, wanting nothing more than to tug David on the bed and kiss the side of his head, press his lips there and stay. Perhaps it is fortunate that then, Morgana tugs off the last bandage and announces, “Healing well, Gawain!”  
  


“Fuck,” Eggsy hisses, his fingers feeling light and breezy now that the bandages are off. There’s no pain in them anymore, just a slight tingle from being exposed to the air. He’s almost terrified to look at them, sure that they’d be looking grotesque. “Is it- do they-” he looks beseechingly at David, unsure of what he’s asking for.  
  


David understands almost immediately, though, crawling on the bed next to him and leaning over, taking his left hand in both his own. His hold is gentle and light, not restricting at all. Eggsy could break it at any time. “They’re looking beautiful,” David whispers, just for the two of them. “Eggsy, it’s okay. I’m here.”  
  


Eggsy inhales deeply, the septic smell of the medical wing stinging his nostrils, and then exhales on a laugh. “It’s stupid, I know,” Eggsy tells him desperately. “I mean, it’s just nails.”  
  


“It’s a part of you,” David says, his voice just as gentle as his grip. He’s keeping his eyes on Eggsy’s face, which Eggsy is grateful for. The love in them keeps Eggsy from focusing on the possible horror that might be his nails. “It’s okay to be afraid. If it was me-” his words are bitten off, a rough swallow stuck in his throat.  
  


Eggsy clenches his fingers around David’s, and finally gathers the courage to look down. And then he blinks, because- it doesn’t look as horrible as Eggsy had been expecting. In fact, his nails just look very small and a lot more ragged than expected. “They don’t look that awful,” he breathes, stunned.  
  


“I told you,” David says, a smug hint to his tone. “Maybe you’d believe me next time.” Eggsy elbows him in the side, smiling as he hears him go _oof_ and continues looking at his microscopic nails. David lifts his hand, pressing a kiss right on top of the nails and smiling at the sound of Eggsy’s giggle.  
  


“If you ladies are about done,” Morgana drawls from their side, making both of them jump, “I need to unwrap the other one now.”  
  


*  
  


It’s the dead of night in the medical wing- one and a half months in, now, Eggsy honestly doubts he’d really needed to be here this long and if he didn’t know Morgana didn’t particularly care for him he’d say the man was probably hiding a massive crush on him- when he hears it. It being an immense commotion, consisting of loud voices, bangs, and stomping against the floor. It would have woken up someone from a coma, honestly- in fact, Eggsy’s surprised Harry doesn’t get jolted awake from his own coma because of it- but Eggsy decides to lie still on his back anyway, keeping his ears peeled. The medical wing abruptly floods with light and he winces, screwing his eyelids shut even tighter against the white glare.  
  


“Oh for fuck’s sake, move-”  
  


“I have fucking broken ribs, _asshole_ , because of you I might add! You fucking-”  
  


“Stop fighting,” A very familiar, very exhausted voice interrupts. _David,_ Eggsy realises with a start. “You’re gonna wake up Eg- you’re gonna wake up the others in the room.”  
  


“It’s a miracle if they manage to sleep through the fucking racket _this_ asshole-“  
  


“Jay, stop,” David sighs, heavy. “You’re about three seconds away from getting kicked out of trials. Let’s just-”  
  


“Yeah, Jay, stop,” the second voice Eggsy had heard snarls, the tone caustic and cutting. “Hey, maybe if you’re lucky, McDonald’s is still hiring-“  
  


“You shut the fuck up too,” David snaps. He sounds like he’s about to lose it entirely, at his wit’s end, and that’s when Eggsy decides that he’s had enough of lying down and listening to this disaster unfold. He pushes himself up off the bed and turns to see both David and another recruit with tanned skin around the same age as himself balance a lanky, pale recruit between themselves with a bruised left eye and a face strained in pain. At the sound of him sitting up all of them look up instantly, their faces looking like deers caught in headlights- except for David, who just looks alarmed. It’s actually slightly hilarious, and Eggsy presses his lips together to keep from letting a snort escape his mouth.  
  


Before any of them can say anything, David speaks first, his tone sharp. “What the fuck are you doing out of bed? Go back to sleep.”  
  


The man with tanned skin, who Eggsy wagers a guess is Jay, turns to look at him with a look of shock. “David, what the fuck is wrong with you?” He hisses, his eyes wide. “That’s a fucking Kingsman agent! And you were worried about me getting thrown out?”  
  


David opens his mouth, clearly furious, but Eggsy minutely shakes his head. David must have forgotten about their deal to keep their relationship a secret until he became Tristan- there was no other explanation as to why he’d suddenly lost his mind in front of his fellow recruits and decided to rebuke an agent at Kingsman. Honestly, this kind of recklessness wasn’t characteristic of him at all- then again, this wasn’t any ordinary situation. David closes his mouth with a click, the fury fading out into slight sheepishness.  
  


“For god’s sake, someone get him on the bed before he keels over,” Eggsy quicklysnaps, taking a step back and reaching for his phone as David and Jay help their fellow recruit over to the bed. He falls on it with a slight huff, immediately wincing and curling a hand around his midriff. A recruit who couldn’t tolerate the feel of broken or bruised ribs- he wouldn’t last long at Kingsman. “I’ll call Morgana, he went home two hours ago but if it’s a case of broken ribs, he needs to be back here.” Jay’s eyes are flicking between him and David, a sense of anticipation and trepidation between them, and Eggsy realises that he has to keep the ruse up. He lifts his chin up, and snaps at David, “And I thank you for looking after my well-being, Budd, but I assure you I am completely fine, and the next time you speak to me like that will be the last time you speak on these grounds, ever.”  
  


There’s a tiny quirk to the corner of David’s lips, making him look insanely kissable, as he mouths _last time?_ before nodding with a contrite, “Yes, sir, sorry sir.” Eggsy has to look away before he does something stupid in front of a keenly watching Jay, like demand for David to kiss him right then and there.  
  


Morgana sounds exhausted and understandably annoyed on the call, promising he’ll be there in ten. Eggsy shuts the call, and then turns to David, Jay, and the still unnamed recruit on the bed, expectant. “What on earth happened?” He demands. “It’s the middle of the fucking night. You couldn’t be civil for one fucking night?”  
  


“He started it-”  
  


“It was his fault-“  
  


“Jesus, enough,” Eggsy says loudly, over their squabbling. Jay and the unnamed recruit look like they’re about to go at it again, teeth bared and eyes glaring daggers at each other. “Both of you are Kingsman recruits. I was under the impression that only the best in London got proposed here. Clearly, I was mistaken.” He and Charlie used to come to blows often, but never this serious where it landed someone in the medical wing. He chances a glance at Jay who’s literally seething, his jaw clenched and a vein throbbing in his neck.  
  


“And who the fuck are _you_ to tell us what we should be doing?” The recruit on the bed demands, unflinching when Eggsy turns the full force of his glare on him. From the side, David rolls his eyes, so hard Eggsy’s slightly surprised they don’t roll out of his head. “For all we know, you could be a nobody. You know, when my uncle hears about how incompetent everyone here is-”  
  


A replica of Charlie, then. He turns back to David who’s leaning against the bedpost, looking entirely too tired and bored with the entire thing. “Budd?” The recruit on the bed splutters at being cut off, but David straightens instantly, pressing his lips together. “Sir?”  
  


“Tell me what happened, since neither of these two can give me a straight account of what the fuck went down,” Eggsy says. In all actuality, he doesn’t know what he’d do once he’s heard them out. It’s not like he has any authority over them, after all- this is Roxy’s territory.  
  


“I-“ David’s eyes shift to Jay for a split second, who shakes his head very slightly- anyone else might have missed it but not Eggsy. There’s something else going on here, he realises, and he considers calling Roxy up as well. They hadn’t had a chance to catch up ever since she’s first walked in to see him and he hadn’t pressed her, figuring she had been busy. “I wasn’t there- sir. I don’t really know what happened.”  
  


Eggsy frowns at the bald faced lie. It _is_ a lie- he knows David like the back of his own hand and the man currently is avoiding his keen gaze, looking at the recruit seated on the bed and hunched over. “You- what do you mean, you weren’t-”  
  


Right then- fortunately perhaps, for all of them involved- Morgana marches into the room, coat unbuttoned, hair askew and bags under his eyes. He looks exhausted, and Eggsy momentarily feels bad for waking him up- god knows the man went through enough what with having to look after the agents during the day. “Glad to realise that Kingsman is training up a bunch of fucking children, then,” he snaps, immediately bending over the recruit on the bed and ignoring his gasp of pain. “Now stop whining and let me look you over.”  
  


Eggsy steps back, and is startled by David’s hand on his elbow. “I need to see you outside,” David says urgently, his eyes dark, and then they flick over to the ever watchful Jay before adding, “sir.”  
  


“Lead the way, Budd,” Eggsy replies warily, refusing to look back at Jay as he follows David out. If it had been anyone else- one of the Statesmen, Roxy, Harry- the ruse would have been up almost instantly. Eggsy prays that Jay isn’t that good of an agent yet. He closes the door behind himself and leans against it, looking up at David. “Well?”  
  


David hesitates, inclining his head slightly. In the dark of the hallway his eyelashes appear spiky black, a paint splash against the blue of his eyes. Eggsy is as mesmerised now as he was when he’d first seen him in the lobby of that community building. “I really want to kiss you right now,” David admits.  
  


“Not what you called me here for,” Eggsy says, grinning, twisting his neck to check if the coast is clear before entwining his arms around David’s neck, pulling him closer. “What is it?”  
  


David’s hands have found their way to his hips as they always do, playing at the skin beneath his shirt. He has the typical white Kingsman medical grade pyjamas on, a plain light green top and trousers, and he’s sure it’s not doing him any favours but David’s looking at him like it’s doing him all the favours in the world. “I saw everything that went down. Didn’t want to say it in front of Larry,” David says, soft and rushed.  
  


“Larry-”  
  


“The recruit Jay punched. I was in the bunker, just- doing my own thing, you know how it is-”  
  


“And it shouldn’t be like that, I’ve told you to mingle with the others countless times,” Eggsy says pointedly, feeling very much like a broken record repeating itself. If Eggsy had thought he’d been averse to mixing with his own fellow recruits, David is much worse- he hasn’t bothered learning any of their names at all, save for a select few who piss him off. Eggsy had tried to convince him numerous time to play nice with the others, but to no avail.  
  


“Yes, yes, whatever,” David says dismissively, his thumb running circles on Eggsy’s hip. “Larry was just- insulting the living shite out of Jay. Going after his skin colour, his heritage, his background- the kid’s from Peckham, you know how it is.”  


Eggsy did know how it is- or at least half of it, in any shape or form. Even then, it’s not a good quality to have in a Kingsman- firing up at every ill aimed jab and taunt. Eggsy should know- he has it in spades within himself, curbing it with an iron force that feels superhuman whenever he’s on the receiving end of a snide look by Lamorak or whenever Bors hisses something under his breath to Kay from across the table, his eyebrows arched and derisive. “It’s still grounds to kick him out,” Eggsy says warily, lowering his hands from David’s neck. He feels like it requires a bit of distance for him to deliver what he needs to say. “Granted this Larry is a shithead, but we can’t have agents reacting like that to-”  
  


“A racist and a classist, Eggsy,” David says incredulously, arching his eyebrows, and then shakes his head vigorously. “That’s not the point- Jay didn’t react to them. He was stiff, but he was okay. He wasn’t when Larry started going after Lancelot.”  
  


Eggsy freezes, then. “Lancelot?”  
  


“Yes, Lancelot,” David says desperately. “He started saying shit about her figure, her arse, how much- you know what, that’s not important. What’s important is that Larry started sounding like a fucking pervert so Jay went wild- went in on him. So that’s why Larry’s like that. I know Jay reacted badly but-” here he grabs Eggsy’s hands, his grip tight and the look in his eyes one of despair, “come on, give him a bit of leniency. Kick Larry out instead.”  
  


Eggsy hesitates, and then gently tugs his hands out of David’s grip. He can’t think like Eggsy Unwin, David Budd’s boyfriend- he has to think like Agent Gawain, one of the twelve agents at Kingsman. Doing otherwise would be a disservice to David. “I think, if it were up to me,” he says slowly, “Larry would be out on his arse by tonight. We don’t take kindly to perverts and racists. At least, I hope we don’t.”  
  


David’s face relaxes slightly, a hint of relief lighting up his eyes and Eggsy rushes to say, “It’s not up to me, though, it’s up to R- it’s up to Lancelot and Merlin. I’ll talk to them, try to convince them for you.”  
  


David’s shoulders have gone tense again, the look around his eyes strained and worried but he breathes out, his hands going around Eggsy’s waist again and drawing him in. “Thank you,” he breathes. “That is all I ask. Jay- he’s a good kid. Impulsive, but good.”  
  


“Thought David Budd didn’t bother with the recruits,” Eggsy teases, curling one of David’s locks around a finger. His hair is getting slightly long again, curling at the edges and falling over his eyes. It’s a look that suits David, makes him look even more impossibly gorgeous than he already is. “That all recruits were far too young for him.”  
  


“Don’t be a smartass,” David grumbles, but his keen eyes are on Eggsy’s lips and just as he leans forward, his breath mingling with Eggsy’s own there is a loud knock on the door, causing both of them to jump apart. “If both of you are quite done,” Morgana says loudly, causing Eggsy to wince at the clear implications in his words.  
  


Roxy comes to visit him without preamble the next day, looking only very slightly harassed to her credit. “I take it you had a very eventful night yesterday?” She asks, bracing her boot covered feet on the bed and ignoring Eggsy’s yelp of disgust, as well as his attempt at pushing them off.  
  


“Yes,” Eggsy says, putting the spoon down. Kingsman breakfast, he has to admit, is about a billion times better than anything he could have cooked up on his own. He resolves to ask Merlin if they actually hire professional chefs for it. “You talked to Budd?”  


“I did, actually,” Roxy says. “Larry Smith was sent home today morning.”  
  


Eggsy shoots up at that, almost upending his coffee. “You did what? You sent him home?”  
  


“Yes,” Roxy says, staring at him with an incredulous look. “He’s a racist, a classist, and a pervert- all qualities we do not need in any Kingsman agent, at all. We didn’t look out for them in earlier agents, but we can look out for them now.”  
  


“I thought-” Eggsy closes his mouth, frustrated and unwilling to state what he’d really wanted to state. Kingsman has given him so much- one of the most valuable lessons being that freedom of speech is a myth. This is Roxy, though, his best friend and the best agent at Kingsman. If he can’t be candid around her, where can he? “I thought I would have to convince you to let him go instead of Jay. You know, because recruits like Jay, they get kicked out more easily.”  
  


“I rather wanted you to think better of me,” Roxy says, looking surprised. “No, don’t- personally, I think having a prejudiced and entitled agent on grounds will pose a danger to everyone else. Merlin agrees too. Jay does need- to work through some things, but he’s by far more deserving of a chance here than Larry.”  
  


“That does make sense,” Eggsy says, smiling slightly. He nudges Roxy’s hand with his own and then grabs it, giving it an apologetic squeeze. Roxy gives him a slight smile back, and he turns back to his breakfast, picking up his spoon again. “I see you met David,” Roxy says, letting his hand go. “He’s the recruit most likely to become Tristan, but don’t tell Merlin I said that.”

“I won’t,” Eggsy says, grinning, pride filling his chest. His David, the top recruit.

“Recognise him? He’s that dude who was caught wandering around London, a bomb strapped to his chest,” Roxy adds, and at Eggsy’s non-committal shrug, continues, “A bit quiet, but he’s good. If he does become a Kingsman, we’ll have to work on his teamwork. He can be a bit of a lone wolf.”

“I’m sure he’s perfectly excellent at teamwork,” Eggsy protests, his tone slightly too sharp, and at Roxy raising an eyebrow at him adds hastily, “not that I’d know. But he looks like he’ll be good at it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Roxy says, skeptical. They sit in companiable silence for a while before Roxy says suddenly, “It’s funny, you had the same look on your face that David Budd had, when he found out that Larry left. Came up to me, he did- said they didn’t take complaints seriously. Asked him who, and he didn’t respond.” She looks up at him, then, eyes open and curious. “What do you reckon? I bet it’s those guys that led to him being in the middle of central fucking London, a bomb strapped to his chest like that. Says a lot about the state of our country, if I’m being honest.”  
  


Eggsy’s heart speeds up at that, aching and sore for David. Every time he thought he’d heard the last of David’s previous employers being the absolute worst, here was another story making them sound even worse than before. The thought of it makes his heart sink, the numerous scars that must have been left on David’s psyche.  
  


“Don’t know,” he says evasively instead, turning back to his breakfast. “You’d be better off asking Merlin- I only just met Budd yesterday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are at the epilogue! there's quite a few loose ends to tie up so I had to split it up in half, hopefully yall enjoyed it! as always come send me eggvid asks or yell at me to update on my tumblr


	8. Chapter 7- Epilogue Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for ptsd mention

Therapy is akin to fucking torture. It is in some respects, actually worse for Eggsy, because the repeated exposure and flaying alive of his deepest thoughts and fears and memories is painful and scarring, making him fear each session with the on-site therapist, Igraine, much more than his quality time with dear old Stephen. At least Stephen used to give him breaks between ripping all his nails off.

Igraine is stern and unsmiling, a far cry from most therapists Eggsy has heard of. Eggsy supposes that as a therapist working in one of the agencies with the most snobbiest, upper class spies in the world, you had to have a backbone of steel. Their first meeting, Igraine cuts right through the bullshit and tells Eggsy that if he doesn’t come clean with her, she’ll be failing his psych eval.

“And then you’ll be out on your arse, no pay,” Igraine says, making Eggsy’s eyebrows go up so high he’s sure they disappear into his fringe. “And I’m sure neither of us want that.”

It’s brutal, but it works. After that first session of Eggsy detailing everything that Stephen had done to him- the taunting, the ripping off of his toenails and fingernails, the repeated stabs and punches and god knows what else, Eggsy had gotten used to tuning him out- he stumbles out and makes it one corridor down before vomiting his entire lunch into a trash can. David risks getting caught sneaking out to meet him that night, driving him over to the nearby Macdonalds and watching as Eggsy had pushed around his chicken salad.

“It gets better,” he says quietly, taking Eggsy’s hand into his own. “I had to go for therapy too, you know. Sucked big time.”

“You did?” Eggsy asks, interested. David rarely talks about what Eggsy likes to call post Julia- an untouchable topic for it made David go stone like, expression stiff with grief and regret and an innumerable other things. “How did it go?”

“Badly,” David says dryly. “After the fifth session I stopped going. And then she died in V day.”

Dour end to David’s therapy sessions aside, Igraine turns out to be a godsend for Eggsy. Slowly but surely, in a cutthroat, confrontational manner, she gets him to realise that getting kidnapped isn’t his fault and doesn’t mean he’s weak, in addition to how deeply being Dean’s stepson had fucked his systems up. Eggsy doesn’t fully acknowledge the depth to the extent of his trauma, how much scarring there is on his heart, until Igraine forces him to see it and fight it head on during their sessions.

“You couldn’t have done anything,” Igraine says, tapping her notepad forcefully with her pen. “Merlin failed in communicating to you exactly who Tanya was. You weren’t kept in the know. You were sent into this blind. It’s no wonder you didn’t emerge unscathed. Blaming yourself for being kidnapped and tortured is like blaming a child for not knowing how to do complex math.”

“I know,” Eggsy says heavily. It’s a sentiment that’s been expressed to him multiple times- by David, by Merlin and now by Igraine. “I just feel-”

“Guilty?” Igraine suggests. “Stop trying to take everyone’s load on your shoulders, Gawain. You shouldn’t think that highly of yourself.”

“Gee, thanks,” Eggsy says sarcastically, but strangely enough the caustic tone works- he feels a little lighter.

Gradually, the night terrors decrease bit by bit, until he starts getting through most of the week just fine, with no nightmares at all. Stephen’s torture fades to a distant memory, a slight blip on his timeline of being an agent at Kingsman. His snarling face, the memory of him taking down David while Eggsy had stumbled against the wall, horrified, gets locked away for good, and Eggsy is so pleased with this development he even decides to inform Morgana about it.

“I told you things were going to be okay,” Morgana says, blinking owlishly at him. “Now shut the fuck up while I remove your cast.”

Eggsy’s discharged from the medical wing about a week before the therapy sessions, the result of it being there had been nothing for him to do while being off duty for one more month and only needing to report to Igraine. The Tristan trials have gotten more intense- Merlin informs Eggsy with no small amount of glee and pride that David is at the top of his class after the results of all the written tests had been released- which meant that David only has the time to see Eggsy for about ten minutes a day before being called back in by Roxy. So there’s nothing, essentially, for Eggsy to do other than sit by Harry’s bedside and wait for him to wake up. That’s a whole other chore by itself, staring at Harry’s slack face and feeling as if he’s back at South Glade hospital, watching the minutes tick by and Harry do nothing but breathe with the help of an oxygen mask.

“He came back, but in a coma,” he tells Igraine in one of their sessions. “What the fuck use is that? “

“Morgana tells me his vitals are improving,” Igraine says calmly, scribbling something down in her notepad. Igraine often liked to pin her greying hair up in a tight bun but today, a few strands have escaped. She brushes them out of her face before adding, “it would be good to have some faith.”

Eggsy hums, fiddling with the Rubik’s cube on her desk. He used to be good at the cube when he was a kid, solve it in thirty seconds flat and then shriek with glee as his father would pick him up, smushing a kiss on his cheek. He can’t solve it now, obviously- he’s forgotten how to. It’s little things like these that make him realise he would have grown up to be a different man, if he’d had his father around. When he and David had gotten drunk to all hell on a couple of shoddily mixed vodka martinis- Harry would have been horrified- David had confessed that he’d thought, once, about what it would be like if Julia had survived that ill-fated blast.

“What would it have been like?” Eggsy had asked, drunk and morbidly curious. There had been a tiny spark of jealousy digging at his spine, threatening to rear its head at the thought of Julia- a shadow in the dark, always present and always ominous despite being six feet underground. He had stomped at that spark with his foot, waiting for David’s answer.

“I don’t know,” David had said, looking thoughtful. “I guess I’ll never find out. It’s no use trying to figure it out. People leave you sometimes, and you just have to grow up and deal with it.” He had taken Eggsy’s hand in his own, pressing his mouth to his knuckles and smiling up at him, his eyes impossibly blue in the dark. “Besides, I don’t think it would have gotten better than this- than us.”

David is over the what-ifs, it had seemed, but Eggsy is not. He’d told David that he’d understood the feeling of lingering on questions of what could have happened but the thing is, he’d downplayed it for David- he understands the feeling a little too well. He lives by the what-ifs; sleeps with them, inhales them, drinks them in. What if he’d accompanied David to the church, back in America? What if he hadn’t turned around when David had tapped on his shoulder in the lobby of the building where they had their PTSD meetings? What if he’d passed the test and made Harry proud, hours before he’d “died”?

“Eggsy?” Igraine asks, looking concerned, and Eggsy startles, before laughing nervously. “Sorry,” he says, squeezing the rubik’s cube in his hands. He hasn’t figured out the combination yet, and it’s been a minute. It’s an assortment of colors that threaten to do his head in. “I get lost in my own head.” He’d told David too, that he’d help him get out of his own head. He’d said a lot of bald faced lies that day.

“It’s my job to help you find your way, not sit here and watch you get lost in it,” Igraine says sharply, unsmiling. “What is it? Let me in, Eggsy. We’re not getting out of here until I deem you fit for active duty.”

“You could give Merlin the seal of approval anyway,” Eggsy says hopefully, and when Igraine doesn’t look the least bit charmed by his words, her lips still pressed together, he sighs. “Fine- fine! Maybe I’m- a little scared about Harry.”

“What about him?” Igraine asks, looking slightly more relaxed now. Eggsy twists the rubik’s cube a little bit more, turning the sides and feeling dismayed when it looks twice as colourful as it did a second ago.

“What if he never wakes up?” he asks, hugging the cube to his chest. It’s not really one of his most pressing concerns, but it is still one- what if Harry’s been doomed to a life of being brain dead and bedridden forever? It was hardly how he’d imagined the suave gentleman who’d beaten all those boys in the Black Prince to end up as.

“Then he’ll be taken off ventilation and there will be a grand old funeral,” Igraine says dryly, before adding, “None of his relatives attending because they’re all dead, lord bless their souls.”

Eggsy gapes at her for a while, feeling dumbstruck by how utterly blunt her words are. To be fair, he should have expected that by now. Igraine never liked to mince her words, after all. “How could you say that to _me?_ I’m sick!” Eggsy demands.

“I’m not paid by Kingsman to mollycoddle you, Eggsy, I’m paid to make sure you don’t put a bullet in your brain when you get home,” Igraine states flatly. “Now will you tell me what you’re really concerned about, regarding Harry?”

Eggsy twists the sides of the rubik’s cube again. A mite less colourful- they were getting there, somehow. Maybe he’d be able to solve it under five minutes. “I didn’t pass the dog test,” he tells Igraine. “Harry was disappointed about that. He told me- he told me it was all to pay a debt to my dead father.” Eggsy swallows roughly, the memory of it bitter and awful on his tongue. What the fuck is he even trying to ask?

The look in Igraine’s eyes, however, has softened to one of understanding. “The test is a fair bit stupid, isn’t it?” she asks, to which Eggsy nods frantically, relieved. “You’re not the only one to fail it and still become a Kingsman, although you’re certainly the only one to do that under Chester’s rule.”

“And Harry?” Eggsy asks, desperate. His heart is lodged in his throat, just thinking about the look in Harry’s eyes as he’d turned back, stated in a quietly furious tone that he’d fix everything. In that moment, Eggsy had known he’d fucked up everything, again, and all he could do was stand by and watch.

“Harry would have considered that debt fulfilled when he’d protected you from those gang of boys in the bar,” Igraine says. “And yet he proposed you as a recruit- for something your father died for. Which sane person does that? Granted, Harry’s hardly of sound mind, but I’m wagering that he knew you would be an asset to Kingsman. He saw something in you, Eggsy.” The look in her eyes is kind, making Eggsy look away and something in his stomach settle at long last.

“I disappointed him, though,” Eggsy says, twisting the cube again. He’s getting closer to solving it, he can feel it within his gut like he used to when he was a kid. “He had such high hopes for me, and I-” Igraine waits, expectant, but he lets his voice trail off, his words dying away in his throat. Maybe Harry had seen something in him- and then had become convinced that it was all a lie after Eggsy had failed the dog test and then stolen his boss’ fucking car.

“I think,” Igraine says, her voice firm with a hint of steel in her eyes, “you need to focus less on what you did as a recruit and more on what you have done as an agent. You know, Merlin doesn’t let just anyone back in after they’ve mouthed off on him and quit in a show of histrionics.”

“I didn’t quit in a _‘show of histrionics’_ ,” Eggsy exclaims, affronted, using his fingers to exaggerate the inverted commas. At Igraine’s coolly raised brow, though, he slides slightly down his chair and mutters, “Yeah, I know.” He knows what he’s done as Gawain has been- decent work, as a Kingsman agent. He just needs to repeat it to himself a little more, believe it himself like others have done.

Another twist of the cube and Eggsy holds it up to the light, smiling slightly. All the colours are the same, showing that the cube’s been solved at long last. He places it on the desk in front of Igraine’s watchful eyes that seem- proud? “Well done, Gawain,” she says admirably.

“Not well done, I used to be able to do that in thirty seconds,” Eggsy grumbles. “It took me six minutes. Six!” If his dad could see him now, he’d be appalled.

“It’s progress, Gawain,” Igraine says sternly. “What matters is that you got there, in the end.” She takes the cube and places it on top of a tiny box, in full view of anyone who’d walk into her office. It’s that simple move, more than anything that makes Eggsy feel suddenly grateful that Merlin had bullied him into going for these therapy sessions.

*

Harry wakes up in the middle of the night, when absolutely no one expects it. Least of all Eggsy, who’d actually been by his bedside along with David. He’s rarely up this late and if he ever is, these days it is not with David by his side- the man usually knocks out after each day of the trials, often citing aching muscles and an overworked brain in short messages to Eggsy. That day, however, he’d asked Eggsy if he would like his company while watching over Harry, in a message that had yet again been to the point and strangely enough, been able to convey his desperation to Eggsy.

When David does reach the medical wing, footsteps silent and face somber, he’s a million miles away. He responds in grunts to Eggsy’s rambles, staring unseeingly at Harry’s blank face, and doesn’t even try to hold Eggsy’s hand in his own- an occurrence that Eggsy doesn’t take very kindly to. He’s tired, that’s something even Eggsy can tell- eyes ringed with dark circles and cheekbones somehow appearing even more hollow than when Eggsy had seen him last. Eggsy considers asking Roxy if she’d be willing to ease the current wringer she’s apparently putting the recruits through.

“You’d be happy to know I passed my psych eval,” Eggsy says, placing his arm on the back of David’s chair. David doesn’t make any move to cuddle closer to him, nor does he look at him either- eyes eerily focused on Harry’s IV drip like it holds every single answer in the world. “Igraine gave me a clean bill of health, but told Merlin to give it a few weeks before he assigns me another case.”

David gives a non-committal grunt, eyes still on the IV drip. His indifference hurts, kind of- Eggsy had been scared shitless about the psych evaluation and whether he’d be able to pass it. His entire career and the future of it had hinged on that evaluation, and David had known well enough how apprehensive he’d been about it. To be met with a wall of nonchalance feels tantamount to a slap in the face.

“So, I met that Jay lad in the corridor yesterday,” Eggsy continues on bravely, nudging David’s ankle with his own. “Nice chap, when he’s not panicking over punching the shit out of a fellow recruit.”

“Hm,” David grunts again, now staring at the oxygen mask over Harry’s face. Eggsy decides he’s had the very last straw, and reaches over to punch David solidly in the bicep.

“What- _ow,_ Eggsy!” David yelps, grabbing his bicep and looking wounded. “What you gotta do that for?”

“What the hell, David? It’s like I ain’t even here!” Eggsy exclaims, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice and feeling the first tinges of worry settle over him. “You’ve been so fucking distant today. You haven’t been listening to me, you didn’t even kiss me once- something’s on your mind, spit it out.” He pauses, and then asks hesitantly, “Are you regretting this? Joining Kingsman?”

“No, never,” David says immediately. He tugs his chair closer to Eggsy’s, wincing slightly at the ensuing screech, before finally grabbing a hold of Eggsy’s hand in his own. “I just-” he swallows, and then continues, in a voice that’s rushed and terrified, “Am I- a good boyfriend?”

“What the f- of course you are, you’re amazing,” Eggsy says, absolutely gobsmacked. David, he can tell, is not joking around though; he’s painfully earnest, his jaw clenched in that way he does that lets people know he’s absolutely petrified and is trying to hide it. “Not that I’ve had many, but you’re my best boyfriend so far.”

“I just, I just keep thinking,” David says shakily. His eyes aren’t watery, not yet, but they’re close. The concern in Eggsy’s chest grows to a veritable ball of worry and he aches to crawl into David’s lap, holding him close. Instead he waits, listening to what David has to say with his heart in his throat. “You know, I couldn’t save Julia. She was inches from me, and yet I couldn’t reach her fast enough.”

“David-”

“History repeated itself with you,” David chokes out, his hand a vice grip on Eggsy’s. “You got taken in that hospital room and I couldn’t even- I was literally _inches_ from you.” He laughs, then, a mirthless and horrible sound.

“It wasn’t never your fault, babe,” Eggsy says, frowning. He thought they’d settled this, all those weeks ago when David had fretted over being the one to blame for Eggsy’s kidnapping and Eggsy very firmly telling him to cut the bullshit, but apparently not. _The regrets of what ifs will eat us both alive,_ Eggsy remembers David saying, thoughtful and quiet while he’d rubbed a hand down Eggsy’s back. Very apparently, it _had_ eaten him alive. “David, I thought we’d been over this-”

“We have,” David says, shakily, running a hand through his hair and thoroughly messing it up again. His knee bounces erratically, and Eggsy would wrap his hand around it and get it to stop except that he has the feeling if he lets go of David’s hand now, he’ll slip away from him and shatter on the floor of the medical wing into a thousand tiny dangerous pieces. “I know we have, but I just- I can’t sleep, Eggsy. The trials are so fucking exhausting but I can’t sleep, because I keep seeing you in that room, tied to that chair with Stephen pressing that gun to your head. You should never have been there.”

“I don’t care,” Eggsy says hotly, straightening up again. “Whatever you do, wherever you go- you know I won’t leave well alone. It’s- if it had been you, that would have been- I would’ve lost my fucking head.” He can’t even consider the mere possibility of it, David in his place with his nails getting ripped off, Stephen laying his fists on him. Just the thought of it, the idea of David screaming his head off in agony, of being in pain and terror is enough to make Eggsy feel fucking petrified, ready to run from the room or tear the world down in rage. It’s not normal, he knows it isn’t- but the depth of what he feels for David is enough to shift the world on its axis, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. It is the fragile tendons in David’s wrist, the way his eyes crinkle when they smile, the way he likes his coffee absolutely blistering hot in the morning and hates going onto the porch without slippers on- its tiny things like that, that make Eggsy absolutely uncertain that if anything were to happen to David, his entire world would shatter.

He can tell, somehow, that that had been the wrong thing to say for David just frowns, staring down at their interlinked hands. Eggsy’s fingernails still aren’t back a hundred percent, the edges ragged and uneven and he gently traces them with his thumb, the look in his eyes so distant Eggsy feels like screaming. _Come back to me,_ he pleads, but David’s not able to listen.

“I never told you why I cut my therapy sessions short, back there,” David suddenly says instead. “It was going well until she asked me what not reaching Julia in time made me feel. It made me feel like shit, Eggsy. I’m a fucking war veteran, I know more than anyone else how I can’t save everyone- but what kind of person am I, to not be able to save at least the ones I love?” David looks away, swallowing roughly, his jaw clenched so tight that the cords in his neck stand out sharper than knives, and Eggsy decides to hell with propriety. He gets out of his own chair and ignoring David’s yelp, plants himself firmly on David’s lap, swinging his legs around on either side of him and taking a very firm hold of his face. This close, he feels himself getting lose in the intense blue of David’s eyes, comparable to the sky in summer.

“I want you,” Eggsy says softly, “to listen to me very carefully, love.” He waits until David’s looking into his eyes, his own full of resignation and defeat and loss, and then says, “History didn’t repeat itself. You got me back- stormed right in and beat that fucker up, and then you carried me out. You got me back again, David. You’re a good man- a good boyfriend, a good soldier, a good bodyguard and a soon to be good agent. You try so hard, and it makes all the fucking difference in the world.” He presses his lips against David’s forehead and waits, until he hears David emit a shaky sigh, the tears in his exhale evident against his throat. He doesn’t know if David believes him, or trusts in his words, but he can try.

“You really think all of that?” David asks, pulling back and looking up into his eyes, his eyes searching and earnest. Eggsy tries to make his own expression as genuine as possible, tries to convey with the power of his sight how much he thinks the world of David, how much he trusts in the good that lies within the core of David’s soul. Like a bad nightmare, the words David had said before passing out in the car on the way to the South Church hospital flash through his mind again. _You should have let me get shot. I can’t save anyone._ God, but his entire kingdom just to never have to hear David say those dreaded fucking words again.

“I know all of that,” Eggsy says, running his fingers through the back of David’s head. “You know, not everyone’s able to put their career on the line to do the right thing. If I had to die just for the powers that be to stop acting like a bunch of entitled pricks who think they can do whatever they want wherever they like, so be it.” At his words, David leans back slightly, his eyes widening. It’s fairly obvious that in all the hubbub and drama of Eggsy being tortured half to death, David had forgotten the real reason he’d even gone after Mike Travis to begin with. The thought of it is morbid- David being so caught up in Eggsy’s safety he’d lost sight of who he actually is, deep down- but it makes Eggsy smile either way. He can’t remember the last time he’d felt this cared for and loved.

“You’re right,” David says, a touch more confident now, his hand finding its way under Eggsy’s shirt, spreading his fingers wide on the skin of the small of Eggsy’s back. “Whatever happened, whatever mistakes I made- I don’t regret taking Stephen down, and Travis out from office.” There’s a wry quirk to his lips, now, but the lines surrounding his eyes and mouth seem lighter. “How is it that you manage to talk so much sense into me, every single time?”

“I told you it’s my job to bring you out of your head every single time you get too lost in it, remember?” Eggsy grins, tapping the side of his head. David catches his hand, lightning quick, and presses a warm kiss to his knuckles, mouthing over them in a way that makes Eggsy’s cheeks feel red hot, suddenly notice the proximity of their location and the silence of the medical wing.

David, as always, seems to read exactly what goes through his head and narrows his eyes, suddenly stern. “We can’t,” he hisses, still holding Eggsy’s hand in his own. “Eggsy, it’s- we’re in front of your mentor! Who’s in a coma!”

“Exactly,” Eggsy points out satisfactorily. “He won’t be able to tell.” David opens his mouth again, presumably about to argue even more when Eggsy decides to cut off his protest with a kiss, open-mouthed and hot. The consequence of not being able to lay their hands on each other for weeks, their only contact cut short to just cuddling and the occasional kiss that’s restricted to light and non-strenuous is this- David’s lips on his, sighing into his mouth fierce and warm, their fingers wrapped up tight in each other shirts. The pleasure that courses down Eggsy’s back as David cards one hand through the back of his hair, the other one sliding higher up the back of his shirt is familiar, like a long lost friend, encroaching at high speed and encapsulating every single thought until all he’s thinking is _David_ and _David_ and _David_ over and over again. He slides one hand up the front of David’s shirt, wishing he could rip it right off and feel David’s chest under his hands, the rough planes and the bumpy scars under his palm like they’re always meant to be. David digs in his fingernails, tugging Eggsy’s hair slightly and despite himself Eggsy moans, the sound soft but landing like a hurricane in the medical wing.

Of course, that’s when a familiar voice speaks up behind them. “Oh my- what an unusual sight to wake up to, then.”

Eggsy shrieks and falls off David’s lap, falling right on his arse painfully on the floor. David stands up instantly, and both of them stare at Harry who stares right back, his eyes open and his face placid with polite interest, his hand holding the oxygen mask away from his mouth. They all blink at each other for a few stunned seconds in dumbfounded silence, before David clears his throat and says, “Uh- I’ll, uh, get Morgana, yeah?” and damn near dashes out of the wing.

Eggsy jumps up and nearly trips over his own ankles getting to the side of the bed, crashing onto his knees next to Harry. “Holy shit, Harry,” he whispers, feeling tears clog his throat. _Harry’s woken up_ , his brain screams at him, Harry’s done the absolute fucking impossible and dragged himself out of the depths of a coma to come back to the world. “Are you- help’s coming on its way, just, hang on, yeah?”

“So I heard,” Harry says, deadpan. His voice is soft and but firm, his breathing deep and rattled. It’s enough to make alarm spike within Eggsy, and he turns to look at the door desperately, wondering where David and Morgana are. He keeps expecting Harry to blink out of existence now that he’s awake, suddenly drop dead right in front of him like he’d done at the church. “Who’s that, then?”

“Who- oh, you mean-” Eggsy flushes bright red. It’s not exactly a good look to get caught making out with a recruit, as an agent, by your comatose mentor. Perhaps David had the right idea when he’d tried to dissuade Eggsy from making out in the medical wing. “Uh, no one. Listen, I’m so fucking sorry that- that I yelled at you, and-”

“No, no,” Harry breathes, reaching over a hand and smoothing a hand over his shoulder. His hold is light and weak, and yet easily felt. Harry, alive and awake and talking to him- it feels incredible, like something out of a dream. “I’m sorry. I should have- it’s in your nature. Do not ever apologise for your heart, dear boy.”

Eggsy swallows the lump sticking in his throat, tears clouding his eyes and vision. The weight that had been pressing on his chest, in the spot carved out for Harry and his father lessens drastically, enabling him to breathe again. The Eggsy from a year or so ago would have bristled at Harry’s words, demand if a Kingsman agent was supposed to be ruthless, if it simply wasn’t in his nature to be one. Eggsy now grasps at Harry’s hand, feeling warmth and gratitude for the man before him- and no small amount of relief, too. _Thank fuck,_ he thinks. _Thank fuck, thank fuck, thank fuck._

“You know,” Harry smiles faintly, patting his hand which holds the signet ring on the ring finger, “I always knew you would make a fine agent one day. Now if you will excuse me, it would seem that the cavalry has arrived.” As if right on cue, the doors crash open with Morgana and his small army of nurses bustling through, David on their heels.

*

The Tristan trials eventually get whittled down to just two candidates- David and Jay, coming as a surprise to absolutely no one. Roxy confesses to Eggsy that she’s rather relieved both David and Jay are the ones to make it to the final stage of the trials, citing the other recruits as a complete and utter set of nightmares. “I rather think you would get along just fine with David, especially,” Roxy tells him as they sit by the bar down the street from Harry’s house in Stanhope Mews, swilling the scotch around in her shot glass. A result of Harry coming back had been Eggsy moving out- Harry had protested, but Eggsy just didn’t feel right taking up his mentor’s house now that he’d come back after all. Eggsy suspects that David’s on the cusp of asking him to move in with him and until then, his things will have to languish at his temporary room in Kingsman headquarters. They’d been overseeing the transport that day, Roxy wrinkling her nose at the amount of Adidas footwear Eggsy owned. “You’re both rather different but you know what they say- opposites attract.”

“Dav- Budd and I aren’t that different,” Eggsy says, slightly affronted. He takes a sip of his own scotch, and then says, hesitantly and determined not to come off as too suspicious, “So you think he may pass the dog test?”

It hadn’t been a problem when Merlin had first asked Eggsy about the idea of proposing David as his own candidate, but it weighs heavily on his mind now. He’d like to think he knows David like the back of his own hand but in all actual fact he has absolutely no idea how David could possibly react to being asked to shoot his own dog. He’d adopted a German Shepherd, a far more polite dog than JB who lets Eggsy scratch behind her ears and likes sleeping in the sun. David had excitedly related to him that he’d named the dog Officer Oatmeal.

“I sent the kids a photo, see,” David had explained, smoothing a brush over Officer Oatmeal’s fur, “and they were ecstatic. Ella said she looked like oatmeal, while Charlie said she looked like a scary officer protecting the streets. Hence the name- Officer Oatmeal.” He’d looked so unbelievably proud and fond of the dog that Eggsy had winced, looking away to prevent David from sussing out the source of apprehension clearly showing on his sleeve.

“It’s anyone’s guess,” Roxy says hesitantly, looking down at her glass. “You know I think the test is bullshit- and I mean, you do too. I don’t know how David might react, and I don’t know how Jay might either. If both of them fail, it’s on Merlin’s head.”

Merlin had expressly forbidden him from meddling in the Tristan trials, citing a conflict of interest and other such nonsense. Harry, who’d been assigned the new position of Arthur against his will had also agreed, a firm set to his mouth even as he’d expressed his appreciation for Eggsy finding someone in his life. “Let David get in on his own terms, Eggsy,” he’d said, clapping a hand on his shoulder in the medical wing. “No meddling.”

This, Eggsy rationalizes with himself as he marches to Merlin’s office on the day of the dog test, is not meddling- it is simply righting a wrong. Going through the dog test and failing it had been a horrible experience and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone- much less the love of his life. He hadn’t wanted to set David up for the job of being a Kingsman agent after such a huge upset in his life, just to watch him fail because of a bullshit rule put in place by a bunch of snobby aristocrats.

“We need to talk,” Eggsy says, barging through the door of the office.

Merlin turns around in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “No need to knock, I was free,” he says, folding his arms across his chest and watching as Eggsy drags up a chair, seating himself on it. “No need to ask for permission to sit, as well. What manners _did_ Harry teach you?”

“You need to call off the dog test,” Eggsy says without preamble, standing his ground and mentally readying himself for an argument as Merlin’s eyes narrow. Merlin opens his mouth, clearly to argue, and he holds up his hand. “No- listen to me, it’s not relevant anymore. You saw what Chester King did, it’s got no meaning no more! You gotta call it off and- and replace it with summat else.”

“First of all, I don’t have a magical list of tests I can just pull out of thin air,” Merlin says, eyebrow arched. “Secondly, you have a point in saying its irrelevant. But-” he raises his own hand to stop Eggsy from talking as well, when Eggsy opens his mouth to interject, “we’re still going ahead with it. Gawain, I told you not to interfere- you’re far too close to these trials.”

“I failed the test and you let me in because I helped you beat Valentine!” Eggsy protests, holding his hands up. “David took down Stephen and a corrupt official _and_ saved me, so you can let him in too.” The logic- to Eggsy at least- seems infallible, and yet Merlin looks unconvinced, eyeing Eggsy like he’s seriously concerned for his mental well-being. Eggsy, grasping at last straws, wheels his chair closer and then jabs a thumb at the monitors where one of the screens show David doing the rounds on the front lawn, Officer Oatmeal bounding along beside him. “I can’t bring him into Kingsman just to see him fail,” he croaks. “I can’t give him a chance and then take it away.”

Merlin regards him for a moment, the skepticism melting away into thoughtfulness. He sets the coffee mug he’d been holding in his hands on the desk and then turns back to Eggsy, lacing his fingers together. “Do you know why you failed the test, Eggsy?”

“Because I didn’t know it was a blank?” Eggsy suggests, confused. What was the point in bringing it up now? Eggsy suddenly has the awful and completely harebrained thought that perhaps Merlin was gonna kick _him_ out for not passing the test after all. “Why, are you gonna fire me now?”

“No, you complete buffoon,” Merlin says flatly, looking as if he was questioning even carrying the conversation on. Eggsy often had that effect on people. “You failed the test because you were set up to fail.”

The words land like a loud thunderclap and Eggsy leans back, shell-shocked. Merlin continues, his eyes piercing and keen on Eggsy’s, “You didn’t trust Chester. How could you have ever shot that dog? You were sitting down too- close range like that, the blank would have blown the dog’s brains out anyway. Chester had covered the floor with a blanket to avoid his blood from getting on the carpet. Eggsy, you’re a bit of a soft lad, sure-” at that, Eggsy snorts, “-but JB wouldn’t have made it out alive. And that surely would have made you resign from Kingsman anyway.”

Eggsy exhales, his stomach turning over at the thought. Chester had been crooked from the very beginning, then. It doesn’t surprise Eggsy, how much that aristocratic prick had wanted to see him crash and burn- but the joke was on him now. “I don’t get why you’re telling me this,” Eggsy says, crossing his arms over his chest. “That has nothing to do with David.”

“David’s test isn’t going to be like that,” Merlin says, his tone unerringly gentle. There’s a knowing glint to his eyes, as though he too can relate to not wanting David to fail after having been through this far. “It’s going to be with someone he trusts, and Officer Oatmeal- strange name for a dog, by the way- will come out alive and well. He won’t be set up to fail, and therefore he won’t fail. Have a little faith in your boyfriend, Gawain.”

Merlin says it in such a firm way that it leaves Eggsy feeling a little chastised as he leaves the office. It doesn’t help his nerves, however, skyrocketing in such a manner he has to go to the gym to burn it off. He ends up wearing out the treadmill and punching the bag in the corner so hard a slight bit of sawdust leaks out. As he leaves the showers, toweling his hair dry and clad in one of David’s nondescript, worn out jumpers and a pair of sweatpants his phone buzzes and he picks it up immediately, heart thundering like a racehorse. “Roxy?” he asks.

“They both shot the dog, although Jay admittedly took rather long to do it,” Roxy says into the phone, excited, and something very large steps off Eggsy’s ribcage. His David, officially a Kingsman. “We’re giving the title of Tristan to David, and Bedivere to Jay, so- are you _running?”_

“No,” Eggsy says, attempting to keep his voice breezy as he dashes down the hallway, narrowly sidestepping a frazzled Bors and almost careening headfirst into a cart of files being lorded around by a techie. He can’t miss this, not for the world- for a second, he wonders if Percival had been this excited about Roxy being crowned Lancelot, and decides perhaps not. “You’re all in Arthur’s office, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Roxy says, suspicious. “You know, you’re awfully invested in these trials for someone who never-”

“Good talk, Roxalot,” Eggsy says hastily, and cuts the call.

As always, Eggsy doesn’t bother knocking- he barges into the room, where Jay, David, Merlin and Roxy are all in a circle, Jay hugging his pug to his chest and David kneeling with his hand protectively over Officer Oatmeal. At the doors banging open, all of them turn around, Merlin looking far too self-satisfied for his own good and Roxy disgruntled, her phone in her hand.

Eggsy, though, only has eyes for David. David, whose eyes are glinting with triumph and love, his eyes tracing the entire line of Eggsy’s figure in a line so scorching Eggsy feels he might burn if he isn’t careful. He’s pale, his right hand shoved into the pocket of his recruit regulation jumpsuit in a way that tells Eggsy his thumb is most definitely experiencing tremors but there’s a tiny smile on his lips and Eggsy feels his heart soar.

“Gawain,” David says, nodding.

“Tristan,” Eggsy manages, and then he can’t hold himself back anymore. He throws himself in David’s arms, feeling David stumble back as he brings one hand up to feel the rough of David’s stubble graze his palm, flicking out his tongue to lick at David’s lower lip. There’s the vague acknowledgement of shouts from all sides- Merlin yelping, “This is still a _workplace,_ Eggsy!”- but everything miraculously falls away, leaving only the feel of David’s hands on his hips, his lips warm and real against his own.

Eggsy detaches himself, still within the circle of David’s arms and reaching up to card his hands through David’s hair, beaming up at him. David looks thoroughly exhilarated and disheveled- hair a wild mess, eyes bright and lips a startling, alluring red. “I’m so fucking proud of you, babe,” he says, his heart swelling. “God, I never dared to dream-”

“What the _fuck_ is going on!” Roxy practically yells and both of them start and look over at Jay, Roxy and Merlin- Roxy’s furious, face red and phone clenched in her hand and Merlin slightly less so, mouth in a stern line. Jay, surprisingly so, is grinning, bouncing on the balls of his feet with his pug still held within his arms. “Eggsy, what the hell? I thought you and David didn’t know each other!”

“Sorry, Rox,” Eggsy says, wincing, especially when Roxy turns even redder, levelling such a fierce glare at him he’s a tiny bit surprised his clothes don’t catch on fire. “I’ll fill you in- look, I really am sorry, alright, Merlin didn’t want it getting out that we were dating and-”

“Forget that,” Merlin snaps, slamming his clipboard on the desk with a thud that sounds off like a gunshot. Incredulously enough, he looks furious too- eyebrows scrunched together and mouth fixed in a scowl. “Agent Gawain, of all the downright unprofessional things I’ve ever had the misfortune to witness-”

“You’re not surprised,” Eggsy says, cutting across him and directing his words at Jay, who simply grins wider. Merlin splutters at the interruption but he keeps his gaze on Jay, who just keeps grinning back without a single hint of surprise on his face. Perhaps he should have given the kid more credit, after all, for figuring out what even Roxy had failed to do. “How?”

“I figured it out when David yelled at you to get back into bed,” Jay says, shrugging. “David’s not the kind of bloke to flip his lid like that at any superior. And both of you, sneaking out like that for a private chat? Come on, I’m not an idiot.” Jay then abruptly pales, perhaps realizing where he is, and adds quickly, “uh, sir.”

“So everyone got the memo except me, your _best friend,”_ Roxy seethes, storming over to punch Eggsy in the arm and then stomping on his foot, ignoring his yelps of _“Ow, Rox!”_ Eggsy can tell, though, that she’s not really upset- her eyes are glinting with shock yet mirth, and she tugs Eggsy close in a hug, burying her head in the crook between his neck and shoulder. “I’m so happy for you, Eggsy,” she breathes, squeezing him so tight Eggsy feels his just healed ribs complain. “You know, I could tell. You just seemed- happier, lighter somehow, like the entire world had been lifted off your shoulders.”

“I _am_ happy,” he replies, giddy. “He makes me so happy, Roxalot, you have no idea.” He looks over Roxy’s shoulder to meets David’s eyes who gazes back, full of love and awe.

“I’m glad for you,” she whispers. “You owe me so _many_ trips to the pub for not telling me, you prick, but I’m so fucking proud of you.” Eggsy nods in acquiescence against her hair, feeling relieved at her acceptance of their relationship. He wouldn’t have known what to do with himself if his best friend had been truly mad at his boyfriend for- well, being just that. Roxy releases him with a coolly assessing glint to her stance she looks over at David, perhaps seeing him in an entirely new light. “You and I will need to have a long chat,” she tells David, who goes pale again. “Preferably next to the armory.”

“Lancelot, stop terrifying my new agent,” Merlin sighs, before turning to Eggsy. “And _you!_ There are rules of decorum we should adhere to as Kingsmen, Gawain! Honestly, did Harry teach you nothing! Why, I ought to-”

As Merlin drones on, his words steadily getting louder and more incoherent beneath the strong hint of the Scotsman in him emerging, Eggsy leans over and laces his fingers with David who beams at him, mouthing _I love you._ He’s relaxed, the line of his figure confident and loose with his eyes glimmering with laughter, the ghosts of his past shunted to the back for now.

“Move in with me,” David whispers, his words meant just for the two of them. “Make me the luckiest man in the world.”

“Yes, you big dork,” Eggsy whispers back, as Merlin’s ranting continues to wash over them. David beams, pressing a kiss to his cheek and then drawing back sharply as Merlin’s voice hits a new, higher pitch. Looking at the way he bows his head in contrite regret, Eggsy lets a snort escape and finally, truly feels at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so we're at the end of this monster of a story! when i started this series, and writing for this ship in general i never expected to actually hit this peak of more than a few stories written but here we are a year and some later! i'm not done with this series so keep your eyes peeled, i'm still going to bore everyone with more stories added on to this series in particular. 
> 
> as always feel free to drop an ask on my tumblr im always up to chat!

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked it leave a comment and/or kudos. come yell at me on my tumblr on honkydancer my dms/askbox are open always


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